Waiting For A Girl
by KricketWilliams
Summary: Penelope Garcia is waiting for a knight in shining armor to sweep her off her feet. The particular knight in question is a little slow in sweeping. Can someone they least expect help give them a broom? I don't own a thing, just my ideas and my love for the characters!.
1. Chapter 1

AN: I'm back with a new story! A friend of mine recently pointed out that I wrote a few helpful Reid stories, and a few helpful Rossi stories, but not one that involved Hotch. So, I figured it was time for me to show some love for the boss man. :) Hope you enjoy this story...

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**Chapter 1**

He couldn't believe it was happening yet again.

Shaking his head in a barely noticeable fashion, Aaron Hotchner watched the proceedings before him from above his paperwork. He did that often, but most of his team didn't notice his observations. He liked it that way.

It was the end of the day; everyone remained hanging around in the conference room, talking about plans for the evening and the weekend ahead of them. Rossi was heading out of town to an old friend's house, Reid and JJ were taking Henry to a museum display about _Star Wars_, and Blake was teaching a class.

And then there was Morgan and Garcia.

As usual, Penelope was sending out feelers to Derek, hoping that whatever plan Morgan made for the weekend would include her, also.

Hotch had heard that the long-term relationship Garcia had with fellow technical analyst Kevin Lynch had gone sour and they'd amicably parted ways. He'd assumed she'd played the field with others—he had heard someone named "Sam" mentioned—but soon, Garcia's attention and her heart had returned where everyone knew it would...to Morgan.

It was almost painful to watch. It was blatantly obvious—even the thickest-headed person should've recognized what she was up to. She batted her eyes at him, gave him coy looks under her thick lashes. However, today, and most other times he'd recently noticed, Morgan wasn't biting. He teased back, but that's all it was—a tease.

A look of pure rejection, along with a pout, appeared on Penelope's pretty face. She tried to hide it, looking down and away quickly at her tablet PC she was holding. However, she wasn't fast enough for his keen eye.

It surprised him; he honestly believed that the two mirrored their feelings for one another. Everything he knew about relationships—he'd been married once; he did know something—stated that they were in love. They had been dancing around each other for years. He'd thought it was a matter of time before they fell into each other's arms, but watching Morgan...maybe not.

Was it really just a tease...and was Garcia headed toward serious heartache?

Hotch's attention was drawn to a conversation happening between Morgan and Reid.

"So, Reid, you got those extra tickets?"

Reid's surprise was obvious. "Tickets?"

"Yeah. You said you had them."

"Well, I do," Reid replied. "I didn't think you'd be interested in the chamber orchestra?"

"I'm not," he replied, a big grin on his face, "but Claudette in the mail room is a huge fan."

"And you're a huge fan of Claudette's huge...err...stamp pads," Rossi quipped, rolling his eyes.

From the corner of his eye, Hotch saw Penelope stiffen just a little, then slowly stand up.

"Hey, I like my girls curvy," Morgan said, that same grin plastered on his face. He leaned back in his chair to look up at Garcia, looping an arm around her hips to keep her in place. "Right, Baby Girl?"

She managed a dazzling smile, little trooper that she was, and replied, "Sure thing, Hot Stuff."

Then she made it out of his grasp and out of the room.

_Blind, blind, blind, _Hotch thought sadly. Poor Garcia.

The rest of the group remained in the conference room, laughing and joking.

"You know, we need to go out as a group tonight," Blake remarked. "It's been forever since we've spent a Friday night together."

"Far too long," Reid added.

"How about McGovern's tonight?" Morgan asked, getting the surprised looks from the rest of the crew. "You in, Hotch?"

"I could come for a while."

"What about _Curvaceous Claudette_?" Rossi inputted, with just enough of a sarcastic grin to make the statement perfect.

"Rossi, it trumps _everything_ if I get the chance to spend the night with my Bab-Hey," he said, glancing around the room. He sat up suddenly, looking confused. "Where'd she go?"

This time, Hotch was shaking his head noticeably. No wonder Garcia looked as confused as she did about Morgan! He was glad he stayed out of these kind of things.

However, he was concerned about Penelope and her feelings. He stood, off to see how his TA was doing.

"She left the room about ten minutes ago," Hotch could hear Reid explaining as he walked down the corridor. "I think Hotch just went after her..."

Hotch found Penelope sitting in her office, looking depressed, like a colorful wilted flower that needed a drink of water. She was ferociously stuffing paperwork in a bag, along with a few other things that she might have needed for the weekend.

"I think that's paper abuse," he drawled quietly.

"Well, maybe the paper deserved it," she grumbled under her breath, like she was talking to herself, and then she looked up. Her eyes widened and her mouth made a round O of surprise. "Sir. I didn't realize it was you, sir."

"At ease, Garcia," he replied, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.

She was still stiff for a moment, but then she smiled brilliantly. "Force of habit."

He could feel his lips curving into a self-incriminating smile. "I tend to illicit that reaction in people."

Originally, she nodded, and then she stopped. She looked at him, peering at him thoughtfully behind her colorful glasses, then announced, "That's kind of a shame, actually."

"Really." Most people thought of his ability to control his emotions and his position of power as admirable and a show of strength. Some were even envious, but no one thought of it as a shame.

"Mmhmm," she murmured and then explained herself. "If people are intimidated, they don't get to see how nice you really are. 'Cause you are nice, boss man, Even as a boss."

"You're one of the rare ones, Garcia," he answered truthfully, shaking his head slightly.

"Does everyone _really_ react that way?" she asked, still studying him.

"Most do."

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "Must make it hard to meet women."

At that moment, he was glad of his stoic nature, because it hid the shock he felt at her words. He hadn't expected that turn of events. Rarely did anyone discuss his love life. Besides, he'd gone to her office because he felt sorry for her, a valued and sweet member of his team, not the other way around.

"Pardon me, sir, for speaking out, but you're really nice guy. You may not always see it, but you are. You're funny, too."

Hotch watched her carefully, watched as she commented with passion and compassion. There was no doubt that she seriously did feel for him. It was humbling that she was lending out encouragement when he knew she wasn't feeling up to her usual chipper attitude. Only Garcia would do something like that.

He stroked his chin. "You see that in me?"

"Oh, yes," she said, her wide eyes enthusiastic and cheerful. "And if I can say...I think if you loosened up and showed your wild side, you'd have women lined up."

Her cheeks were bright red by the time she finished talking, and he did feel for her-although she'd started it. He couldn't avoid his smile now. It was highly inappropriate shop talk, but at this point, he would run with it. It was making Garcia feel better to take her mind off of Morgan.

"So you think that's all it takes?" he asked encouragingly.

"Mmhmm," she answered, nodding. "Seriously. You're good looking, smart—"

"Talking about me again, huh?" Morgan added, coming into the office.

She smiled and winked at Hotch before turning to Derek, "If I'd said _vain_ and _incorrigible_ with it, then yes, I would've been. But, alas, I didn't."

He clapped a hand over his heart. "Wound me to the quick, woman."

"Sorry, Baby Boy," she answered, her eyes twinkling. "Now, what brings my knight to my lair?"

Something in Morgan's expression, a look of pure pleasure, told Hotch he was right all along: Morgan was just as interested in Garcia as she was in him.

"We're headed to McGovern's tonight. Want to come with? Be my date?" he asked, then added a grin only Morgan could pull off. "Short notice, but I know my baby would never let me down."

"I don't know," Garcia teased. "What do I get for giving you, a mere mortal, the most valued time of this star oracle? Perhaps I am busy."

"C'mon, Momma. You always make time for your man," he said, leaning close, nearly nose to nose with Penelope. A second later, he stood, winked, and tapped Penelope's nose, "And the trouble we can get into."

"Charmer," she said. Penelope turned away slightly, but not before Hotch saw a sure flash of sadness in her pretty brown eyes. It was obvious Morgan didn't see it, and that didn't surprise Hotch, either. Being too close to something can skew even a profiler's perception. She was taking it as a tease again, and perhaps Morgan meant it that way for now, but it was tearing her up inside.

Hotch knew three things...

One: Someone with a big heart and a lot of love to give was feeling dejected.

Two: Someone else was very blind, and was going to lose something good he never quite had if he didn't make a move.

Three: Aaron Hotchner never meddled in anyone's personal life. Ever.

He sighed internally, knowing that two things were going to change right now...

"I'm afraid Garcia can't _make time_ for you," Hotch said quickly, before he could stop the words he might regret. "She's coming with me."

Derek frowned. "Where?"

"To McGovern's," Hotch replied smoothly, despite the two surprised faces staring at him, "as my date."

Derek's mouth fell open, completely unable to hold in his usual poker face. "What? Your...what?"

Thankfully, Morgan was under such shock that he didn't seem to notice the nearly equally surprised look on Garcia's face.

Hotch took a step closer to Penelope and smiled softly at her, mouthing the words, "_Trust me."_

She nodded in comprehension, a smile gracing her full lips, and then she smiled at Derek. "That's right."

Hotch arched a brow at Morgan. "I trust that isn't a problem? Perhaps you can bring with Claudette?"

Derek looked confused. "Who?"

Penelope barely suppressed a giggle, thoroughly enjoying herself now that she was in the thick of this little partial deception. "The girl from the mail room, lover. Go. Have fun."

"Baby, I-"

"As for me," Penelope interrupted with a grin, "I'm going to shake it with the boss man tonight."

Derek was very close to sputtering. "But you don't dance."

"Perhaps she's been dancing with the wrong partners?" Hotch added lightly, before arching a brow and extending a waiting hand to Garcia. "Ready?"

"Sounds great to me," she said, reaching for her purse before letting him lead her out the door. She halted for just a second in the doorway and turned to look at Derek. "Lock the door when you leave, 'k, angelfish?"

When they walked away, they left a very stunned and confused Derek Morgan.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews! Wow...I am totally awed by the great response to this story! I think I need to write the boss man more often! ;)...

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**Chapter 2**

Once they climbed into his car, Hotch and Garcia traveled for a while in uncharacteristic silence. Well, uncharacteristic for Garcia, at least. Hotch wasn't a very chatty person; he was much more likely to be observing something than reacting to it. Right now, he took the stillness in the car as her incredible discomfort in riding with her boss. Perhaps—

"Thank you."

Those two words, spoken by Garcia in a quiet tone filled with gratitude, made his heart clench. So the silence had nothing to do with the awkwardness he'd been assuming. He knew the feeling had to do with her presumption that she had unreciprocated love for Derek Morgan. Seeing them in action, he knew his original assumption was correct—their feelings were a two-way street. She had ended her long-term relationship with Kevin Lynch; he'd thought that would be the turning point for the pair. For some reason, neither was willing to say anything to change their current situation.

And that left Garcia where she was now, sitting in his car, looking miserable.

Hotch thought about saying something to make her expound on her response to him, something vague, but he didn't. Garcia had always been heartfelt and earnest with him, even when she was doing something not quite on the up-and-up that he didn't really want to know about. If she needed to talk, she would.

So instead, he answered simply, "You're welcome."

He wanted to do something to make her feel better, but he wasn't sure exactly what. He thought of how she'd lit up at the idea of him loosening up to get a girlfriend. Aaron had no wish to go through the pain of a relationship again, after the disaster he'd had with Beth. It had been far too soon after he'd lost the love of his life to even think about dating, and it had shown when he'd tried to force matters. He had absolutely no desire to enter the dating scene again.

Then he thought again about how happy and excited Garcia had been when she'd been "helping" him and how it would make a big difference for her to focus on someone else with relationship woes...

"But I really should be thanking you," he said, cringing internally as he bit the bullet, meddling again when it took him completely out of his comfort zone.

"Why?" she asked.

"You got me thinking about what my problem may be," he said, that internal cringe meter on high, "with meeting women."

He caught her wide-eyed expression out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm not sure you could call it a problem, sir."

"Aaron," he corrected and then added, "And yes, it is."

Again, a thoughtful look crossed her face, completely obliterating the morose look she'd had.

"All right, you have a point," she agreed after she'd pondered the thoughts. "Being staid and compliant can be an issue."

_Staid_ and _compliant_? He'd never thought he was staid and compliant! For a brief moment, he considered not saying anything more, but his nature—helping others—came to the forefront. This wasn't _really_ about him—it was about Garcia.

"I think you could help me," he said quietly.

Penelope gasped and then shut her gaping mouth. "Si—err, Aaron, I am uber flattered, but I so totally think I am the wrong person to help you shake that three-piece suit."

"No, you're the right person," he countered.

"No, I'm not."

Hotch approached the figurative bench, ready to argue his position. "Garcia. There are very few people I know who have your zest for life, your enthusiasm and sunny disposition."

"Aww, thank you!" she replied.

"I can't imagine another person who embodies warmth and freedom like you do."

Penelope was smiling ear to ear, but then she bit her bottom lip. "I don't know... I still think this could be very awkward. I mean, you're my boss and all."

She had a very valid point, but still, he was doing this to help her. He'd decided and that was final. In fact, he was so into this discussion, he purposefully missed the turn to McGovern's so he could continue the fight.

"I don't think so."

"Could you do something like this with Strauss?" she argued, and from the tone in her voice, he could tell she'd thought she won.

She hadn't.

He began softly, "I'd like to think I am far more approachable than Strauss—"

"Oh, you are!" she backpedaled. "I didn't mean—"

He ignored her interjection and continued, "And that I have become someone you care about, more than just being your boss."

"Yes, sir," she said, pouting.

"Aaron," he corrected again.

"Whatever," she mumbled under her breath.

He burst out laughing. "It's not a death sentence, Garcia. If you don't feel comfortable helping me...get comfortable, you don't have to do it."

She was quiet again, seriously in thought. He already knew her answer. She could never be a serial killer; she was the easiest person in the world to profile. Knowing he'd won, he'd turned the car toward McGovern's. Satisfaction rolled through him. This was complete gravy; he couldn't figure out why Derek Morgan had such a hard time reading Garcia.

Then again, he'd had a terrible time reading Haley, too.

His gut churned. Damn it.

"Okay, _Aaron_," she answered exactly how he knew she would, with so much emphasis on the last word, it rang in his ears. "I will do this, but on one condition."

He arched a brow at Garcia. "Which is?"

"You'd better get ready to party."

"I am."

"I mean it," she ordered. "You're going to knock a million women off their feet out there."

"I'd prefer one nice one still standing," he quipped.

She waved him off. "Pish posh. There's going to be at least a dozen tonight alone."

"Garcia..."

This time, she arched a brow at him. "Hello? I've inadvertently helped my sweet chocolate Female Lodestone for many years. I can help you, too."

Hotch chuckled. "I hardly think Morgan needed any assistance."

"Neither do you," she said, nodding curtly. "I am the boss out there. I know the party thing and what turns us girls on."

"I _was_ married once before, Garcia."

She narrowed her eyes, ignoring him. "I have your best interests at hand; you have to do as you are told."

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, then looked over at her and raised a brow. "Should I refer to you as _ma'am_ all the time now?"

She blushed immediately and shrunk down in her seat somewhat. "Sorry. I think I got a little carried away."

"A little," he answered, feeling the corner of his mouth still quirked in a smile.

"Wow, we're here already," she said as he pulled the car into the lot. She undid her safety belt and looked at herself in the mirror.

He knew it was time to solidify his objective. "Penelope?"

She turned away from reapplying lipstick. "What?"

"Let's keep this on the down low from the rest of the team, okay?" he said. "I'd prefer them to think we are just going out."

"Like Derek and me?" she asked.

_Absolutely not! _he thought, internally paling. He never planned to let this get anywhere near that far. He knew everyone else on the team considered Morgan and Garcia about one step from consummating their relationship.

Everyone but Penelope and Derek themselves, it seemed.

"Sure," he lied gently. "Just like that."

She grinned at him and winked before saying, "Okay, _Hot Stuff number two_. Out of the car. Let's shake that moneymaker and get some girls."

After Garcia shut the door, Hotch took a deep breath.

_Oh, Lord. What did I get myself into?_


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews; you guys make me smile! Here we go with the next chapter...

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**Chapter 3**

Penelope was pretty dang sure she wasn't going to have a good time tonight. For starters, she didn't really want to go to McGovern's. Seeing Derek wearing Claudette like a scarf was going to be torture. She'd had to endure years of seeing him draped with some lithe some woman, and tonight, she didn't think she had the heart for it.

Especially since she'd been the scarf he'd been favoring in recent weeks.

She pouted in frustration. They seemed to be getting so close! Once she'd let Kevin go and had a couple of rebound dates, she was finally ready for the big kahuna, the relationship that would end all relationships, the one—with her soul mate and partner in crime, Derek Morgan. So, she'd waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And she flirted...and got nothing.

Sure, it had felt wonderful to let Derek have it, to snap back at him that she was busy, not waiting like Donna Quixote for her impossible dreamman. Yet, in the same vein, it was a short-lived thrill. Yeah, he'd seemed surprised—who wouldn't be, seeing her painting the town with Hotch?—but it wasn't real. Deep down, she was still smitten with a man who should've made a move by now.

Depressing.

So depressing, she'd thought a lot about canceling this whole adventure...until the boss man entered with his bizarre request. She still should cancel; this could be the great BAU disaster of the century!

"After you," Hotch-slash-Aaron said in his deep, gravelly voice, opening the door to the pub for her.

Hmm. That was nice. Hotch apparently was an old-school gentleman, like Rossi. Kevin had never opened doors for her or held out her chair. Derek did, but only because his mother would kill him if he didn't. It wasn't automatic, like it was ingrained in this makeup, as it was for Hotch and Rossi.

"Hi, gang," Penelope called out when she saw the entire crew, sans Rossi and Morgan, sitting there at their usual table. Even though it had been a few months since she'd last been there, seeing them at the same table they'd always been at gave her a warm feeling. Familiarity breeds comfort. She was glad, too, that Derek wasn't there yet with his _hussy du jour_. After a drink or two and good conversation, she'd be able to grin and bear it much better than she could at the moment.

"Hey, Garcie!" JJ grinned at her, then looked over at her date with no small amount of surprise. "Hotch! Wow, how did we get you to grace us with your presence?"

As Garcia slid in, Hotch followed and sat next to her. It was usually where Derek sat; having Hotch there felt a bit foreign.

Speaking of Derek, Hotch replied, "Morgan asked me."

JJ's dazed look was still on her beautiful face. "Really? That's all it took?"

Hotch chuckled, beaming brightly. Penelope noticed he looked so much younger when he was smiling. "Sometimes I'm easy like that."

Garcia leaned over and whispered, "Hotch, since you're rusty, I'm going to warn you. Don't leave the door open like that for me to make comments!"

He looked down at her with a teasing smile—he had a very handsome smile!—and she felt herself smiling back. "Thanks for the sage advice, Penelope."

"Penelope," she said softly. "I like that."

"I do, too," he replied, still grinning, and then picked up a drink card from the table. "What would you like? A beer? Soda?"

"A fuzzy navel, extra orange juice, with a squirt of grenadine," she answered and then added, "Oh! Cherries. Extra cherries."

It was odd having to tell someone her drink. Derek would've walked up to the bar and brought back a beer for himself and her drink, perfectly made.

"Got it." Hotch slid out of the booth. "I'll be right back."

"Okay, Garcia. I hope you don't mind me asking," Blake queried the second Hotch stepped away, "but is something going on?"

Penelope gulped and her eyes widened. "Why would you say that?"

Alex smiled a little and her forehead wrinkled in thought. "Well...you and Hotch walked in together, and he just bought you a drink. It doesn't take a profiler to think something is going on."

Guiltily, Penelope shook her head. "Umm...no. Nothing's going on. Nothing really."

JJ leveled a disbelieving look at her. "Oh, no. I know that stammer. Garcie..."

"Fine," Penelope huffed. "Hotch and I decided to come here together."

Both women blinked for a second, quickly hiding their astonishment, and then Blake commented, "Oh, so you did some work for him and he's rewarding you?"

It was obvious she was trying to come up with a reason why Hotch would be escorting Penelope. Frankly, if _Penelope_ saw Hotch escorting Penelope, she'd want to come up with a reason for it, it was so unorthodox. Yet, deep down, it bugged her. It reminded her of the people who thought she and Derek were too mismatched to be a real pair. Hotch could be interested in someone like her...even if she hadn't quite believed it a few minutes before herself.

So she replied truthfully and in a leading fashion, "No. I didn't really feel like going, but he asked me to go as his date, and I accepted."

"Whoa," JJ answered, taking a sip of her drink. "I wasn't expecting that."

"Well, maybe you should've!" Penelope snipped, her own thoughts rendering her a touch raw and defensive.

"Hotch asking someone on our team on a date?" asked Reid, who looked up from his phone. "No, I believe JJ was correct. The improbability of this occurring was quite high, so her lack of preparedness was justified." He then went back to his phone.

All three women looked at each other, and then they began to giggle.

Penelope realized how defensive she'd been, how she'd misjudged the girls due to her own misgivings and worries. She owed JJ an apology. A second later, Penelope said, "I'm sorry. It _is_ uber strange."

"I agree," Blake answered, raising her drink.

"But nice," Penelope added, thinking of Hotch and his quest.

The corner of JJ's mouth rose. "I bet Morgan will just love this."

Penelope put her nose in the air. "I don't care what he thinks. He's had his chances."

"What's this I hear?" Rossi asked, coming over to the table and sitting next to Blake. "You and Morgan on the outs?"

"No, we're still friends. As always," Penelope replied quickly. She frowned slightly. "Where _is_ Derek?"

Reid looked up from his phone again. "He said he had something to do. He'd meet us here later."

"It's later," a deep voice sounded from behind her...the one that always caused goose bumps of awareness and a swirling in the pit of her stomach. "Hey, angel."

Other voices were nice, but none were as scrumptious as the voice that just called her name.

She turned in her seat to see her handsome best friend, standing there solo. God, he was beautiful, in his dark, button down shirt, leather jacket, and low-slung dark jeans. She began to smile. She couldn't help herself—no matter how angry she was at him, seeing him filled her with joy.

"Hiya," she breathed dreamily, and then snapped out of it to state the obvious. "You're here alone?"

"For now." He leaned closer, giving her the gentle, yet sexy smile he seemed to save only for her. "Seems you are, too. Want me to get you your drink—with extra sweet cherries for my sweetness?"

It wasn't exactly an apology, nor was she expecting one from him. He didn't really do anything wrong. It didn't matter. It was perfect...just like he was.

Like always between them, Penelope felt time stand still and everyone else simply disappeared. It was just the two of them, connected and focused on each other. It had only been a little over an hour, but she'd missed him. She could drink him in, savor him, when he gave her all his attention. When he looked at her like that, it was like no other woman—no other _person_—existed in the world for him. She felt like she was his everything, and God help her, he was her everything, too.

"That won't be necessary."

Hotch's appearance, standing there with two drinks in his hands, shook her out of her reverie. She'd been ready to drape herself on Derek in a heartbeat, had forgotten everything that had conspired earlier. God, she was hopeless! She almost felt like crying, until Hotch slid into the booth next to her and placed her drink in front of her. A drink would be good. It would help smack her out of her stupid, overly hopeful, overly fanciful dreams back squarely into reality.

And then she really looked at the drink.

"Oh, my stars!" she gasped, a big smile on her face. "Cherries, a twirly straw, _and_ an umbrella? I love those umbrellas!"

Hotch grinned at her. "I thought you'd like that."

"I do! I didn't know they did that here. All the times I've been here... Look, Derek—" She turned, ready to show Morgan her new toy, but he'd already left and was standing up at the bar, getting his own drink.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews...It's the greatest feeling, getting that love in the inbox! mwah!

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**Chapter 4**

"Stupid-ass umbrella," Derek grumbled under his breath as he stood at the bar, waiting for his beer. What was the big deal about a cheap paper umbrella? He'd gotten her drinks with special souvenir glasses, drinks with a smorgasbord of fruit attached to it, even drinks with a lit sparkler shining from it like it was the Fourth of fucking July, and she'd never made that big of a stink over it.

He glanced over his shoulder at the table where his friends were still sitting and saw Hotch lean closer and tell Penelope something. She tossed her head back as she laughed out loud, her colorful earrings shaking with her mirth. A second later, she slapped at Hotch playfully.

Hotch, for Pete's sake!

He was on his third drink at the bar already, and he _still_ couldn't wander over to the table. He just couldn't get over that it was his boss sitting in _his_ damned spot, flirting with _his _Baby Girl. When the hell had that happened? There hadn't been any changes as far as he knew. Hotch seemed his usual awesome, organized, stoic self, and his baby was...well, his baby. She wasn't any different. In fact, it had been him sitting there, enjoying her smiles and her flirts no so long ago.

He needed to suck it up. He didn't have any claims on Garcia. Not really. It wasn't that he didn't want to have claims on her. It killed him to see her with other men. He'd been tortured for years, watching her parade around with that unworthy, bacon doughnut-eating geek.

He sighed. He was the last person on earth that should call anyone else unworthy. He had his own ghosts he was fighting with. Lately, he felt like he was winning...and then he'd wake up with nightmares and cold sweats, thinking about Buford. Thoughts, anger, hurt, even guilt over his death, nearly choked him and made it hard to breathe.

No. He wasn't ready to be anyone's lover, much less someone who deserved a whole man, like Penelope.

A whole man.

He watched Hotch chuckle at something Penelope said, and he turned back to the bar and slammed his third drink.

"Hey, handsome, would you like another drink?" the pretty bartender asked, more than a little interest in her expression, but Derek wasn't biting. He was far too interested in another woman tonight. One that was giving those sherry brown, perfect puppy dog eyes he couldn't resist to his boss. In a few seconds, he'd bet Hotch would be up, getting another drink with another fucking umbrella perched on it for Penelope.

"Yeah," he said. "One more shot."

He eyed a bowl of peanuts sitting on the bar, thought about popping one in his mouth, and then some statistic Reid had spouted out about people not washing their hands before reaching into those snack bowls changed his mind. He'd said urine was the most common-

Derek's pocket began to buzz, and he dragged his phone out. Hell. It was Claudette, asking if she should still come. He never should've invited her tonight. He wasn't interested in her, but he didn't want to go stag. It was a matter of pride to him, but to hell with pride. No one should be subjected to his miserable butt tonight. He began to fire back a text, when a hand clasped his shoulder.

"Hey, kid. Are you ever going to come and join our table...or are you going to sulk here all night?"

_Great. Rossi._

"I'm not sulking," he said, putting his phone away. "I'm here, scoping things out...smiling at the pretty bartender."

Dave scoffed. "The hell you are. You're sulking."

Derek arched a brow sarcastically. "Why would I be doing that?"

"Because it appears you may not be the only drone in the queen bee's hive anymore," Rossi replied.

Derek turned back to his drink. "Kiss my ass, Rossi."

"That's not how I roll, but thanks for the offer," Rossi quipped so nonchalantly, it made Derek laugh. "A word of advice?"

Derek took a swig of his drink. "Sure."

"She's still your queen, no matter what happens." Those dark, omnipresent Rossi eyes stared him down. "She'll always need you, and she loves you, too. You don't want to mess that up by being a jackass."

Derek sighed internally, knowing Rossi was right. He hated how many times that man had been right in the years he'd known him and how well he could read people. It was a gift. "I won't."

Rossi smiled. "Good. Now get over there and behave."

He smirked back. "You mean bee-hive, right?" he teased with a wink.

Rossi chuckled and clapped Derek on the shoulder. "Yeah, kid, I do."

They turned, getting ready to walk away from the bar, when they walked right into Hotch.

"I'm getting us a couple of drinks," Hotch asked and then arched a brow. "Do you two want anything?"

"Nothing with a fucking umbrella," Derek grumbled.

Hotch's lips quirked. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Two beers," Rossi supplied.

Hotch nodded his agreement as Derek and Dave wandered back to the table. Out of pure habit, Derek wandered to his usual spot near Penelope.

"Wow, super lightening speedy Aaron to the resc—" she began, and then turned in her spot. "Oh, Derek!"

"Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart."

"Oh, Hot Stuff, you _never_ disappoint," she said quickly. "I just wasn't expecting you."

The devil in him wanted to ask when she'd started expecting Hotch, of all damned people, but he didn't. He just returned her smile and asked, "Is it okay if I sit by you for a while?"

"Of course!" she said, her eyes shining brightly and happily, and then she reached for his hand resting on the table. "I missed you."

He brought her hand to his mouth, kissed it, and then squeezed it in return. "I missed you, too, Baby Girl."

"Where've you been all night?" she asked. "Last thing I know, you were getting a beer." Her lips twisted in a thoughtful look. "Wait a second."

She turned in her seat, glanced at the pretty redheaded bartender, and then sat back down. "Oh. Now I know."

Derek knew what she'd presumed, and a part of him wanted to tell her she was wrong, that he'd been thinking of her, not flirting with that girl.

And then as he watched Hotch return, carrying three beer bottles and one drink with an umbrella, another part of him wanted to keep what was barely left of his pride.

"Hey, Aaron," Rossi called out. "You want to play a round of darts?"

Hotch handed Penelope her drink as Derek reluctantly rose from the spot nearest his Baby Girl. "I don't know."

"Oh, go on," Penelope teased. "Go show them what my Hotch Rocket can do."

At those words, beer nearly came spurting out of Derek's nose. _Hotch Rocket_? _Her_ Hotch Rocket?! He choked and reached for a napkin, bitter beer and bile rising in his gullet.

"Oh, man," JJ said, rolling her eyes and laughing. "And I thought the Morgan nicknames were bad!"

Rossi and Reid snickered, and Blake said, "That really was terrible."

Hotch laughed and then stood. "I guess that means I'm in."

"I'm in, too," Derek snapped. He'd had enough of feeling bested tonight, and damn it, if he had to get back some of his own playing darts, he would!

"Reid, you in?"

"No. Have fun with your show of sportsmanship," Reid said, stretching his arms along the back of the booth behind JJ and Blake. "I'll keep the ladies company."

Rossi shook his head and winked. "I _knew_ there was a reason we called you genius!"

Reid beamed back at him, just before the rest of group started toward the dartboards.

"Have fun, Hot Stuff," Penelope called out. "And Hot Stuff number two!"

Derek nearly tripped over his own feet in astonished disbelief. She couldn't have said what she'd just said. No fucking way.

And then Hotch turned and waved back.

Smoke rose over Derek's head as three words came to his mind...

_This. Means. War._


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! What glorious folks you are! :D

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**Chapter 5**

Phase one of Hotch's plan to get Morgan to realize what he had in Garcia was in full swing. It didn't take a genius with an eidetic memory to plan this out. He simply thought he'd raise a little jealousy and obsession in his obsessional crimes leader. He went basic, and it was working like magic. His plan was toddler-esque: take the favorite toy that had been ignored in the toy box, and suddenly, the one doing the ignoring wants it back—right now.

Unfortunately for Morgan, Hotch didn't play by toddler rules.

Normally, he believed in teaching a short lesson, without having to preach about it like Rossi did. He simply guided; he liked it when his friends made the realizations on their own. However, this time, something made him change his mind. Maybe it was because he was having so much fun with Garcia, or maybe it was because he'd seen Penelope mope about Morgan too many times. Somehow, for some reason, he thought it would be good to let Morgan sweat a little bit longer.

Judging from what he'd seen tonight, Morgan could open a sweat shop. When he'd bumped into Rossi and Morgan, Derek had shot him a rather forced grin. When he'd returned to the table, Derek had very reluctantly risen from the spot next to Penelope, and now...Derek Morgan was trying his damnedest to beat him in cricket.

"Whoo! Beat that!" Derek crowed after throwing a double bulls-eye, a double twenty, and a fifteen.

Aaron noticed when Moran said the words, he looked directly at him. Apparently, it didn't matter to Morgan that Rossi was in the lead, having closed out eighteens and scoring quite a few points. He simply wanted to rub it in that he was ahead of Hotch, his rival for Penelope's affections. It was petty and ridiculous...and obviously a sign of jealousy.

Although he thought that was a good omen, when Hotch smiled back at Derek, it wasn't as genuine as it normally was. "Great job, Morgan."

It was hard to smile genuinely at a man that was blatantly trying to bulldoze him.

He then fired off three darts in rapid succession, closing the bulls-eye and scoring massive points to pass not only Morgan, but Dave, too.

Morgan's balloon deflated and he scowled at Hotch. "What the hell?"

Aaron shrugged nonchalantly, but internally, he was smiling. Unbeknownst to everyone on the team besides Rossi, he'd played semi-professional darts in college. It was common practice at his law school to take a stress-relieving leisure course—either darts or golf. Aaron had chosen darts, due to it being a year-round sport.

The rest of the game was neck and neck, with Hotch finally winning the first round. Morgan challenged to a second game, which he won, and then Rossi took the third. With the fourth, tie-breaker round, it was a horse race to the finish. Morgan was naturally athletic, and Dave was a seasoned darts player. The final round was so intense, testosterone and comments were running fast between the three challengers. They'd drawn attention from others standing around at the bar, who cheered their good throws—so loudly, Penelope and the rest of the team had come over to watch the show.

Dave threw his darts, earning a round of applause for his accuracy. He swore an oath under his breath, knowing he was still was behind in points.

Derek was up next. He eyed the board carefully, took aim, and threw well, making his marks and passing Dave's score.

"Good job, Hot Chocolate!" Penelope called out, clapping excitedly.

"Thanks, angel," he commented, a savagely big grin on his face before he looked back at Aaron, with a look of _Top that_.

It was an age-old show of male courtship. Morgan was preening like a peacock, strutting for attention from his chosen peahen. It also was a sure-fire sign that Hotch's tactics had worked. It should've made Aaron very happy...

Yet, for some odd reason again, he couldn't celebrate. Derek was damned obnoxious, with his jealous jibes and attempts to show he was a better man. He understood that yes, Morgan wanted Penelope, but they were friends and gentlemen, too. There was no reason for unbecoming behavior. That irritated and frustrated him. And because of that irritation, some long-buried competitive streak was rearing its head.

He thought, too, of Penelope's comments in the car, about him being staid and compliant. He thought, too, that maybe it was time for him to show his testosterone and be the Alpha male he'd always been...and keep Morgan sweating at least until the end of the night.

Aaron focused on the dartboard, the numbers clearing under his glare. He arched his wrist, drew back, and let fly, sinking the darts exactly where he wanted in clear succession and winning the game.

Perhaps he imagined it, the hush that fell over the bar, and then loud cheering and clapping. Rossi, Reid, and other team members congratulated him. Strangers slapped him on the shoulder, wishing him well, and he felt his own internal peacock strutting.

It felt damned good to let that bird out.

Morgan came over and extended his hand. "Congratulations, boss man. I owe you a drink."

Hotch clasped the hand of his colleague and friend and gave him a genuine smile this time. "Sounds good to me."

Morgan held his hand for a second longer, meeting his eyes. "Pool? How about pool?"

It was a direct—and rather desperate—challenge. He doubted Morgan even realized how ridiculous he sounded.

It was probably time to stop riling him up...

Hotch arched a brow. "After pool, are we doing arm-wrestling?"

Derek blinked, and then had the good graces to grin sheepishly. "I'll get the drinks," he said, clasping Hotch's shoulder before he called over the waitress to place a round for the table.

They returned to their seats, truly no worse for the wear, considering the steep competition. Talk turned into just average chatter, some about work, some about other things. Blake excused herself a little early because she had a class to teach, but the remainder of the group stayed behind.

It reminded Aaron about how much he liked these kinds of nights. It had been far too long since he'd been out. He'd been smiling more the last hour than he had in years. He found it easy, hanging with the team, having fun and relaxing. It was a lot like old times, back when he and Haley were young and freshly married: before the politics that had happened at the BAU, before his carelessness in taking his relationship with her for granted, before she'd lost her faith in him...

Before Foyet.

"Hey, you're not smiling," Penelope said quietly. "You'd been smiling all night, and now it's gone. We like that smile of yours around here."

He'd been lost in his memories, his heart still sore in his chest, raw like it was yesterday that he'd lost her. He looked into the concerned face of Garcia, at the genuine caring and warmth, while everyone else around them was still laughing, tossing peanuts at each other. He looked at her and blanched a little. He hadn't thought he'd let his mettle slip that much.

He arched a brow and a sarcastic smirk graced his lips. "I'm not usually known for my sunny demeanor."

"Well, boss man, tonight you are," she said, shoving at his side. "Get up. We're dancing."

The song was an oldie, "Unchained Melody." It was one that he had danced to many times with Haley. She'd loved the song, the romantic lyrics, although he'd thought it was clichéd at the time.

He'd give anything to dance with her again.

He shook his head slightly. "Not now."

"Aaron, I'm giving the orders, remember?" she reminded, a finely arched brow raised above her colorful frames. "Let's move. It's good for you."

He doubted her reasoning that it was "good" for him. He was thinking it was definitely not good. Not that song, not this second, not now. However, seeing her face screwed up in determination, he was willing to test the wisdom of her thoughts versus his conventional thinking.

_Good for me?_ he thought, throwing a touch of caution to the wind. _Maybe it is._

"Penelope, would you like to dance?" he asked, sliding out of the booth and extending his hand.

She accepted his hand with an eager smile. "Sir, I thought you'd never ask."

Slowly, they made their way from the table to the middle of the dance floor. Aaron kept her one hand in his, drew her closer, and then placed a hand on the small of her back. Last time he'd danced, it was with Beth. Her athletic pursuits did not favor dancing. Penelope felt different in his arms. Soft, feminine...good.

Very good.

He realized they'd been dancing half the song already and they hadn't said a word. He'd been enjoying himself, lost in the sweetness of her fragrance—a floral with a hint of fruitiness—and the soft, swaying movements. For those few moments, he'd lost track of what his plan had been.

Swallowing hard, he made small talk. "So, having fun?"

"Mmm hmm." She leaned back a little in his arms and gave him a quizzical look. "Are you?"

He thought about it. Standing there, holding Penelope Garcia, swaying to the music, talking about nothing and everything...

"Yes," he answered truthfully. "I'm having a wonderful time."

She grinned precociously. "Good thing to hear, boss—"

"Aaron," he corrected.

She huffed in frustration. "Well, I guess it's a good thing for Aaron to hear, too."

He found himself laughing again, and he couldn't help but smile to himself. He'd come there tonight to make her feel better while she nursed a broken heart...and it appeared she was doing the same thing for him, albeit unwittingly.

For in those few moments, too, the bittersweet pain of memory faded and was replaced with softness and light.

"I have to agree," he murmured. "It certainly is."

He pulled her just a touch closer, let his mind go silent, and just enjoyed the dance.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Thank you for the reviews. Here comes the next chapter...It's a doozy!

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**Chapter 6**

At the moment, and contrary to her original predictions about the evening, Penelope Garcia was having a wonderful time. She had a feeling three things were contributing to this genuine feeling of goodwill and peace. Number one, the fruity drinks Hotch/Aaron kept magically refilling for her were not only stylish, but very potent and tasty. Number two, the boss man was a splendid dancer who was light on his feet. Number three, her Baby Boy, her Hot Stuff _numero uno_, her glorious chocolate man candy seemed a little jealous of the attention she was getting from Hotch.

She couldn't help but think one thing: _Good_.

Well, maybe not good. That wasn't a nice thing to think, and Penelope Garcia, if anything, was very nice. She wanted Derek to be happy and to have fun and to not have to be jealous. The angel on her right shoulder, complete with diaphanous white wings, told her that.

But...the little devil in red leather pumps and adorable horns on her left shoulder couldn't help but snicker. There had been soooo many nights she'd been pea green—and that was a terrible color for a summer complexion like hers—with envy over the women that Derek had flaunted for years.

A touch of reciprocity never hurt anyone.

Besides, she'd been doing a good favor for Hotch. He definitely seemed to be on the market now. Starting the night, she'd played it up a little bit, flirting with the boss man. She wanted him to fit in, to feel comfortable and to raise his appeal factor. Not that he didn't have a lot of appeal—Hotch was a very good-looking man, in that GQ, serious kind of lawyer-y way. Not that she really noticed that too much about him—he was her boss. However, she'd promised she'd help him get attention, and she was a woman of her word.

After a while, the flirtation wasn't forced. It ended up coming naturally to her, like when she'd flirted with Derek in the past. She never thought she'd say this, but Hotch was downright fun. Not only that, he was attentive, he was kind, and mostly, he was _there_. Derek had wandered off to the bar to flirt with the bartender, and she hadn't really missed him because she had Hotch.

And then she noticed the looks, and the glares when he didn't think she was looking, and the frowns. Smart cookie that she was, she put two and two together to equal a fantastic four. The devil on the left must've been speaking louder to her again, because once she figured it out, she played it up. Extra laughs, a hair toss...she even gave Hotch _nicknames_.

She was wicked...and she felt a little bit bad, especially about the "Hot Stuff" comment. That was Derek's nickname. Well, he _had_ called other women "Baby Girl" at times, but still...

She sighed. She hoped she didn't hurt his—

"May I cut in?" The object of her thoughts came out of nowhere, standing directly behind her partner as he stepped aside.

"Of course," Hotch said, smiling softly and rather knowingly at Penelope.

Come to think of it, that smile was almost too knowingly...like Aaron had known what was going to happen. However, she didn't have too much time to ponder that thought. A second later, Penelope's hand was in Derek's hand, his other hand was on her back, and he was leading her into the dance.

"Hi there, Baby," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that caused goose bumps to rise on her arms. He didn't look upset; he only looked like he needed to be with her.

Looking into his eyes, she knew she wanted to be with him, too.

"Hi there, sweet stuff," she answered, holding her breath as he pulled her closer into his embrace. They usually didn't dance so close, more like friends than dates. It was surprising, different, to be held that way by him while dancing.

She placed her hands on his shoulders as they began to sway to the music, and the differences between the two men hit her like night and day. Dancing with Hotch had been pleasant, warm and good, but with Derek, it was like her body became electrified with sensation, aware and alert.

Hotch may have been better at darts, but no one danced like Derek. He moved like he was on air, and she felt like she was floating. She could feel his large palms against her back, warm and firm, guiding her movements, and the movement of the muscles of his chest and shoulders under her hands as she fell under his spell. Even the soft cotton of his shirt felt different, more tactile.

"Having a wonderful time?" he asked, his dark, golden-brown gaze holding hers captive. His eyes appeared deceptively lazy, yet she could feel him watching everything, her every move. It made her pulse beat faster, her breath catch yet again.

"I am," she replied, glancing somewhere safer than his eyes. She focused on the top button of his Henley shirt, saw how it was open, revealing a bit of bare skin that looked delicious...kissable.

She shot her gaze back to his and saw that he was still watching her intently. His perfect, full lips curved into a smile. "We should dance like this more often."

"I'm not a very good dancer." It was true, or at least she thought so. She'd told him that for years.

He shook his head slightly. "I don't think so."

"Thanks."

"In fact," he drawled, smiling teasingly, "I'm thinking that was an excuse so you didn't have to dance with me."

She shook her head. "No, it wasn't."

He arched a questioning brow at her. "Why do you think you're not a good dancer?"

"Wade Garrington."

Derek frowned. "Who the hell is Wade Garrington?"

Penelope couldn't hide her smile at his sound of both irritation and jealousy. "Relax, angelfish. He was my school dance partner."

"And?"

She huffed, knowing he wasn't going to let her escape from answering. She couldn't fight Derek on things like that; he'd pry it out of her.

"Wade was my dance partner in Phy. Ed," she began. "Square dancing, Charleston, the Twist. Everything you had to learn, I had to learn with Wade Garrington. For three years running."

"Why him?"

"Garcia. Garrington. It was alphabetical."

"Lucky twerp," Derek said, winking at her.

She laughed. "Are you going to let me finish?"

He gave her a very serious look. "Yes, angel. I'm quiet."

"End of the eighth and final year, they had a semi-formal dance in the gym. We did it cotillion-style, where we called each other Miss and Mister. They decorated and everything. My mom bought me a pretty dress with a lot of flounce, like Cyndi Lauper."

"Pretty."

She smiled at him. That was sweet, even if it was thirty years too late. "Anyway, the Phy. Ed. coach was turning records as usual, and not many kids were dancing. I saw Wade, so I walked up to him, but he refused to dance with me. He said I was a bad dancer."

"Oh, sweetheart," he said, holding her a little closer.

"It's okay." She smiled. "It was a long time ago and a really silly dream. My friends and I had all talked about how cool it was going to be. We wanted to dance to Foreigner and have a boy sing to us."

Penelope sighed, thinking back to how young she'd been and how silly those dreams were. All of her girlfriends had dreamed it, but none of them had had it happen. Fourteen-year-old boys were never romantic.

"Let me guess..." He paused for a second. "'Waiting for a Girl'?"

She nodded. "Yep. That's the one."

"Kinda cliché, honey, don't you think?" he asked.

Penelope frowned immediately and defensively. "I know you think it's cliché and ridiculous, but at the time, I really wanted it to happen. I _loved_ that song," she gushed. "I knew all the words."

"All the girls knew it," he said with a smirk. "None of us boys did."

"That's because it's beautiful!" she argued. "You boys were listening to Metallica and all that, but we...we felt pretty with that song." She paused, thinking back. "I would've felt pretty, instead of awkward with braces and pimples and frizzy hair, if someone had sung that to me. It wasn't—"

"Wait a minute."

"Where are you going?" she asked, as he left her in the middle of the dance floor.

Soon, he was back, just as the familiar synthesizer notes to a song came over the sound system.

_Oh, my... Foreigner_.

Derek stepped closer to her, bowed, and held out his hand. "Can I have this dance, Miss Garcia?"

She blushed, shaking her head. "Derek, this is ridiculous. You can't turn back time."

"Hush, momma," he said, pulling her even closer as the song became even more clear. "Let's just dance."

Penelope's heart pounded in her chest as the words of the song rippled over her. Other dancers joined them on the floor, but Penelope didn't see them. She felt surrounded by him, by his strength and his warmth and his energy. It was overwhelming surrender. She didn't fight him, couldn't have fought him even if she'd wanted to—and she didn't want to fight.

She simply closed her eyes and danced, lying her head on his shoulder. It was strange; they were so different in so many ways, and yet their bodies fit together. He held her tightly, but instead of feeling smothered or claustrophobic, she felt free.

"I would've done it for you, you know," he whispered, his cheek against her temple. "I would've sung for you."

Penelope sighed, letting him hold her. Deep in her heart, she knew he spoke the truth. She had no doubt he would have. Derek had always been her hero, her champion, her noir knight.

He began with just humming, and then, seconds later, she heard his soft, off-key voice singing in her ear. "_Maybe I'm wrong; won't you tell me if I'm comin' on too strong?"_

"You said you didn't like that song..." she whispered, mesmerized.

Penelope's heart pounded harder, filling even more with love. Any defenses she'd worked up over the evening began to crumble and disintegrate as he held her closer and continued.

"_This heart of mine has been hurt before...this time, I wanna be sure_. _I've been waiting for a girl like you, to come into my life."_

When Penelope raised her head and looked into his eyes again, she was lost. All the feelings she'd been denying, all the love she felt for him, came rushing to the surface. This was her Derek. Her Prince Charming. Her—

"Derek?"

The high, unfamiliar female voice sounded awkwardly in Penelope's ears, causing her to jolt.

"Claudette?" Derek said, his voice sounding thick and slow to respond.

Penelope turned to see a voluptuous, enormous-breasted brunette smiling seductively at Morgan. She stepped right past Penelope and gave Derek a massive hug.

"I hurried here as soon as I could after work."

Derek swallowed hard, glancing at Penelope and then at Claudette. "Umm—"

Penelope's heart sank to her feet. She was an idiot. Her overactive imagination had her convinced she meant more to Derek Morgan than just a friend. Looking at this beautiful, curvaceous brunette, she thought back on the night. Everything he'd done, everything he'd said while they were dancing could've been in the guise of friendship. Even his so-called jealousy could've been just because he wanted to show up Hotch.

She needed to face facts: She didn't mean anything more to him than as his very good friend. The faster she got that through her head, the faster she could heal her heart.

"I'm just going to excuse myself," she said quickly. "Nice meeting you..."

"Penelope!" Derek called out.

Penelope didn't wait. She was in a hurry as she rushed to the bathroom before anyone would see her cry.


	7. Chapter 7

_AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! I thought I'd post before I hit the sack this morning (I was out kind of late!)..._

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**Chapter 7**

Hotch made it back to the table in one piece through the throngs of people still on the dance floor. JJ and Reid were engaged in conversation, and Dave was nowhere to be found. He chuckled lightly; he was probably hitting on the svelte bartender Morgan hadn't been interested in.

On a hunch, he turned to look, and sure enough, Dave was up at the bar. A second later, he returned to the table, carrying two beers.

Hotch gave him a sardonic look. "No luck with Red up there?"

Dave handed Aaron a beer and then took his seat. "Lose your _date_, too?"

Aaron's lips quirked with a smile. As he'd expected, Rossi had figured out something was amiss. There was no pulling the wool over Dave's all-seeing eyes. "No. I believe I just put her back where she needs to be."

He took a little time to explain what had transpired, from Garcia's sad looks in the conference room to the dance out there on the floor. He was feeling pretty good about everything. Although he was having fun and enjoying his time with Penelope, he wasn't cut out for this scene. Once Garcia and Morgan were on the path to each other, he could go back to his regular life of peace and serenity.

Dave picked up his drink and saluted Aaron. "Good job."

"I think so."

After a quick glance where the dancing couple had been, Dave's expression turned to one of foreboding. "Ah...I wouldn't congratulate myself too much, cowboy."

Hotch frowned as he glanced at the dance floor, just in time to see Penelope running across the room. Morgan was standing next to a voluptuous brunette, looking forlorn and confused.

Hotch muttered an oath under his breath. Apparently he wasn't done with his task after all.

Rossi shook his head. "Out of everyone in the entire world, I never thought you'd be the one to put yourself through something like this."

Hotch took a sip of his beer. "Remind me of that the next time I volunteer to play boyfriend."

At that moment, Penelope was returning from the bathroom. Her eyes were red and her makeup looked somewhat chalky on her cheeks, like it had been hastily reapplied. It was obvious that she'd been crying.

"That's my cue to go," Dave said, standing and donning his jacket.

"Goodnight, Dave."

Rossi didn't move. "A word of advice?"

"Of course."

"Be careful, Aaron," he warned.

"I'm not going to let any harm come to Garcia or Morgan," he replied, reaching for his beer and taking a sip.

"I'm not talking about them; I'm talking about you." When he looked up at his friend, Dave's dark eyes bore through him. "Guard yourself. Otherwise, you might realize Morgan wouldn't be the only one who'd be lucky to have her."

Hotch nodded and focused as Penelope approached the table. Really, he wasn't worried. He was here to help Penelope and Derek; he had no intentions on falling in love. He'd seen the God-given chemistry between his two team members, and he knew how rare that was...and how foolish it was to squander it.

"PG, are you okay?" JJ asked as she reached the table.

Penelope kept looking downward. "I'm fine."

The silence around the table was deafening and very telling.

At that moment, Morgan started back towards the table, his gaze focused directly on Garcia.

On the same note, his "friend" was hastily following behind him.

Penelope was staring at her hands, trying very hard not to tear up and looking as miserable as a woman could look. This wasn't good; she looked very fragile to him, and his protective instinct kicked in.

"Penelope," he asked, "do you want to go home?"

Whatever conversation Morgan wanted to have with her would have to wait.

She stood immediately, and said gratefully, "Please."

* * *

The drive from McGovern's started off very quiet. When he glanced over, Hotch saw Penelope sitting stiffly next to him in the front seat of his Lexus. She was chewing her bottom lip, trying valiantly not to start crying again.

Contrary to popular belief, he was not as stoic as people thought he was, and he seriously hated when women cried. He felt helpless. Penelope cried with sincere emotion, like her heart was being ripped from her chest. There was no sniffling behind a tissue for Garcia.

Perhaps talking about it would help. "Penelope."

"Yes, sir?" she answered with a voice filled with tears.

"What happened out there on the dance floor?"

She sniffled and turned to the window. "Nothing."

That made him smile. She was a terrible liar.

"Judging from your smeared makeup and tears on your face, I'm guessing that isn't exactly the truth," he said, but gently.

She barked a laugh. "Well, nothing happened except for me being an idiot."

He'd learned a long time ago that the less he said in situations like this, the better. So, he simply asked, "Why do you say that?"

"It's really nothing."

"Garcia, if I can help, I'd like to," he prodded softly.

She was quiet, still staring out the window as he continued to drive. He thought that maybe he'd pushed too hard. It had to be her decision to open up.

She turned to look back at him. "Have you ever thought for sure that someone was your soul mate?"

He swallowed as her words registered. He definitely knew that feeling, like part of your own heart lived outside your body. He nodded calmly, far more calmly than he felt. "Yes."

"And you open your heart time and time again to that person, and they do nothing but hurt you?"

"Is that what happened with you and Morgan?"

"He... He..." She began to sniffle and took a deep breath.

"Take your time," he murmured. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a tissue. "We have all night."

She looked over at Hotch, her eyes huge and luminous behind her red frames. "Why? Why does he have the power to hurt me so badly? It's like he doesn't even care."

"I think Morgan cares very much," he answered truthfully. There was no doubt in his mind that Penelope was very important to Derek.

She whispered. "Like he does for everyone else on the team."

He gave her a look. "You don't believe that any more than I do. You know you're very special to Morgan."

"I'm not special enough for him. Not the way I want to be," she said miserably, and then her eyes filled with tears again and she looked back out the window. She mocked herself, saying, "That's why I'm such an idiot."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Penelope," he said quickly, arching a brow at her. "Do you consider me a good judge of character?"

"You're the best," she said, and he could tell she meant that honestly.

"Then believe me when I say you are definitely not an idiot." He pulled in front of her apartment complex and threw the car into park. "I would say that you are brave, compassionate, and intelligent. You see the best in people, and you let them see the best in you."

"Crying like an idiot is the best in me?"

"No, Penelope," he explained. "It's you, giving yourself the chance to love and be loved in return—that's the best in you."

"Aww," she said, her face screwing up like she was going to bawl again. He hadn't intended on that happening. "That was so so soooo uber sweet."

"It's part of what our deal was about, Penelope," he said, handing her a tissue.

"Really?" She stopped and blew her nose noisily.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied teasingly.

She began to smile, just a little. "So...mentioning our deal... do you still want me to show you how to loosen up after all of this tonight?"

_Oh, man...did he?_

Seeing her hopeful smile, and how she'd changed the focus and became more of her old self, answered the question for him.

"Especially after tonight," he answered. "I'm looking for you to help me be able to be less conservative, help me take risks—"

"Ooh! I like that!" she said, with a big, naughty grin on her face.

"Within reason," he added quickly. Good God, what would she do if she thought there was no limit?!

She laughed, the first time he'd heard that since they'd arrived at the club. He was glad to hear it.

She pushed his arm and winked. "Fuddy duddy."

He chuckled. "Wildcat."

Her grin intensified. "Wow. A new nickname. You're busting out all over the place, si—Aaron."

"It's what I do best," he replied with a grin that mirrored hers.

Suddenly, she reached over and gave him a big hug. He held his arms out for a second, then wrapped them around her and patted her back.

"Thank you, Hotch," she said softly, her voice muffled by his shirt. "For everything."

"My pleasure, Garcia," he answered, and he meant exactly that. It was his pleasure to help her. The whole night had truly been a pleasure.

"See you Monday," she said, sliding out of his car.

"Goodnight."

He watched her walk, a spring to her step, up to her complex to make sure she was safely inside, and then he drove down the road. The night hadn't turned out like he'd intended. He'd have to spend more time time with Garcia. That wasn't an unpleasant thought at all; he did have a very good time and he felt more relaxed, even after the drama. Perhaps this relationship really was mutually beneficial? He turned on the radio, leaned back, and smiled, as he continued the journey home.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! Sorry, everyone, but FF is being kind of odd. I haven't gotten reviews from the last chapter, but I see they are posted. Please forgive me for not answering—I don't know how to do it without an email!

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Derek watched as Penelope ran away, his heart sinking. Fuck! He hadn't intended on this happening. He never wanted to hurt Penelope. It all went down the toilet.

He'd been jealous, and it was bitter and acrid in his mouth. Derek had rarely been jealous of anyone in his life, and being jealous of a friend like Hotch was the worst feeling he'd ever had. He wanted good things for his friends, but tonight, he'd lost it and acted like an ass. He'd seen Hotch with Penelope, and it had fired something dark and primitive inside him. He was ready to arm wrestle the man; thank God Hotch had a sense of humor.

Derek tried to calm down, tried to relax and take it as friends hanging with friends. He even thought about his life, about how he wasn't ready to claim Penelope due to his own issues. Hotch was a good guy, a great guy, and a fine person for her to be hanging out with, and he wanted to be happy for them...

That didn't work.

The jealousy became tantamount. He wanted to be the one she laughed with, the one she smiled at. He wanted his place back next to her, where her soft body would melt into his harder frame. He'd ignored some of it, but watching her dance with Hotch had been the final straw. He'd never really danced with her, and sweet Christ, he wanted to. The driving need to take her into his arms had overtaken everything else he was feeling, and once he'd had here there, all other rational thought had left.

He wanted to be her hero, her knight. He'd heard her story, heard the sadness in her voice, and he'd wanted to make her feel better. She should never feel like she wasn't the prettiest or the sweetest or the best dancer. To him, she was everything a woman should be, all that a woman could ever want to be, and he'd wanted to show her, _needed_ to show her, more than he wanted to breathe.

And then Claudette had shown up, and he'd broken Penelope's heart. It had been written in her expression, and that killed him. She'd left before he could say anything, and Claudette had clung to him like poison ivy on a tree.

He needed to get to his Baby Girl and make things right.

Somehow, he managed to pry Claudette's clinging arms from around his body.

"Derek?" she asked, staring at him.

"I have to go," he blurted, not bothering to explain himself to the buxom brunette.

Seconds later, he spotted the table where everyone was seated. He saw Penelope for a second, tried to lock eyes with her, but she wouldn't look up. He tried to rush through the throngs of people dancing, but bumped into more as he moved along.

When he finally got to the table, panting, he ordered, "Where is she?"

"Claudette?" Reid asked, blinking in a not-so-innocent fashion that left no doubt the genius knew exactly to whom Derek really had been referring. "She's directly behind you."

"Hi, I'm Claudette," the bubble-brunette said, wrapping her arm around his bicep, with a big, cheddary grin for his two remaining teammates.

JJ waved back, her lips twitching with amusement. "Hi there."

Damn it, this was _not _where he wanted to be at the moment! He wanted to shove Claudette off and run after wherever Penelope had gone, but he couldn't do that.

"Do you and your friend need a seat?" JJ asked.

His mother had raised a gentleman, and truly, what happened wasn't Claudette's fault. He needed to remain polite. "That won't be necessary."

"Oooh!" Claudette squealed. "Where are we goin'?"

He frowned, trying desperately to hold his frustration in, and turned to face Claudette. "Listen, Claudette. I'm sorry, but tonight isn't a good night. I texted to tell you not to come, but I didn't get a chance to send it."

She gave him a blank, big-eyed stare. "Maybe it's fate that you didn't send it, Derek? Maybe we're supposed to be hanging out together?"

Claudette was not the sharpest crayon in the box, and this thought-process seemed ridiculous, but he wasn't a mean man.

"No, we're not," he said gently.

"So...you kinda want me to go?"

Derek sighed internally. _Kinda_ was not even close. He wanted her to fly away. Disappear. Pronto. He was going to need to be more blunt and obvious.

"Yes," he said.

"Maybe another time?" she asked, sounding hopeful.

He smiled back and lied, "Maybe."

Claudette turned and headed toward the bar, a happy skip to her step.

"Good grief, Morgan! Where on earth did you dig that one up?" JJ asked, not even bothering to hide the humor in her voice. "She seems a few clowns short of a circus."

"I believe he procured her from the mail room," Reid drawled in answer, the humor in his voice barely concealed.

Derek didn't let it get to him. JJ and Reid were allowed to ride him when he made stupid decisions, and he'd made a very, very stupid decision tonight. Still, he needed answers. "Laugh all you want, guys, but where's my Baby Girl?"

"She left just moments ago," JJ said.

"Shit!" Derek swore. "I have to talk to her. She's upset."

"Very," JJ reassured him.

"Damn it!"

"Don't worry—she's with Hotch," Reid replied innocently. "I'm sure he'll take good care of her."

JJ raised both eyebrows and looked at Morgan suspiciously. "Hmm..._really_ good care of her, from what I'm hearing..."

Derek scowled blackly. "What are you hearing?"

"Nothing much," JJ said in a leading fashion. "However, the two of them _were_ here on a date, and they seemed to be getting along pretty well."

Derek's scowl remained, but he laughed as he sat down. "Penelope isn't interested in Hotch."

"How do you know?" Reid asked.

"Because I _know_ her," he answered quickly. "He isn't her type."

"Hotch is single, attractive, mature, reliable, honorable..." Reid continued.

"Sounds like someone _anyone_ could be interested in," JJ added before taking a drink of her beer.

Derek reached for a bottle of beer. He really had been blowing this off as nothing, but deep down, he was panicking. This could be serious. It was the first time he'd ever had to think of one of Penelope's flirtations as serious. He'd never counted Lynch as something important; Penelope could do so much better than Lynch, and he had a feeling Penelope knew that, too. But Hotch...Hotch was a good guy, one of the finest men he knew. He had no reason to dislike or disagree with Hotch as a choice.

Except that he wanted her for his own. Too bad he wasn't good enough for her.

His heart crunched painfully in his chest. _Hotch was_.

"Morgan, can I ask you a question?" Reid asked, interrupting Derek's self-torture.

"Sure," he said.

JJ looked at the two men and then excused herself, saying, "I'll get us a few beers."

"Earlier, you stated you wanted to bring Claudette, and now you're obviously not pleased that she arrived," Reid continued.

"It was only if Penelope didn't want to go," he replied.

"Yet, you spoke of dating Claudette in Garcia's presence," Reid added.

He huffed. "I wasn't serious about that. I was joking around, like I always do."

"Hmm," Reid said, stroking his chin. "Since I didn't understand your thinking, I wonder if Garcia also misunderstood?"

Derek scoffed and grabbed his warm beer from the table. "She knew I was teasing."

Reid gave him an arch look. "I don't think Garcia appreciated it."

"We tease about things like that all the time!"

"I don't know," Reid said, his tone sounding exactly like he did know. "I think Garcia may have tired of teasing. She's worthy of more."

"I know that," Derek grumbled. He did, too. He kept it light, because he wasn't ready. He had to keep it light, or he'd spill his heart to her, and-

"Also, Claudette showing up..." Reid shrugged. "I wouldn't have thought you were teasing."

"I am _not_ serious about Claudette," Derek supplied quickly, frowning so hard, his forehead hurt. "Reid, the only woman I'm serious about is Penelope. You know that."

It was true. Reid and Morgan were partners often. Reid knew every little dirty detail about Derek's love life, or lack thereof, and his undying torch for their technical analyst.

"Does she know that?"

Derek sighed and sat back in his chair. "Damn it."

Reid paused and stared at Derek. "I think _that_ is what you have to talk to her about, Morgan. Not that you were teasing or joking or kidding around. Be serious to her, about her."

Derek frowned, shaking his head. "You know I can't do that. Not yet."

Although he didn't know the full scope of Derek's problems, Reid had a good basis of them, and he knew Morgan's reasons for hesitancy.

Reid shook his head. "I know I lack considerable experience when it comes to love..." Reid waited a minute, as if he expected Derek to comment, and then continued when he didn't, "but you and Garcia have something very special. The both of you truly need each other."

"We do." It was a statement, not a question. He'd never needed anyone, not until he met Penelope. Now, he needed her to breathe.

Reid stared him down. "I think you have to figure out your issues quickly, or as you'd say, 'Get your shit together.'"

Derek chuckled just a little. He was right; he did need to get his shit together.

"I'd hate to see you both lose a connection that is so unique." Reid mouth curved into a sad, partial smile. "I know too well what that feels like."

Derek patted Reid's hand, knowing that he was talking about his own romance. "I'm sorry, man."

"It's okay."

Derek took a drink of his beer, and then said, "She's not going to wait forever."

Reid drank a sip of his, and then, not being a beer fan, pulled a face. "Nor should she have to."

"I know," Derek replied, that bleak feeling rolling over him yet again. Damn, he'd sunk to a new low—taking relationship advice from Reid. Still, the kid knew what he was talking about. When he was right, he was right.

"Back with beers," JJ called as she came back and sat down. She stared at both men. "You done talking?"

"For now," Reid replied.

Derek nodded as he took the beer. He had a lot of thinking to do, and a lot of talking...especially to the PTSD counselor he'd been avoiding. It was about time.

Hopefully it wasn't _past_ time.

He held up his bottle. "A toast?"

JJ and Reid looked at each other, and then Jayje said, "Sure."

"To friendship... and very good advice," he said.

"Amen," JJ said.

Reid grinned. "Hear, hear!"

And all three took a pull from their beers.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews. You are all stars, and I appreciate every one of them. It makes my day to know a story is garnering attention!

**Chapter 9**

On a Saturday, Aaron Hotchner was up early as always. Although it was a Saturday, he still had many things to do. Single dads did not get days off. Single dads with sixty-hour work weeks had even less time off. Single dads who spent the majority of the week out on a case simply had no time whatsoever to speak of.

It had been one week and one day since they'd all gone out together, and he was curious to know if it had done any good as far as the Morgan/Garcia relationship. Monday, the team had been called out of town to a case in Silver City, Nevada, and he hadn't seen any interactions between the two in question. That wasn't uncommon; they each took phone contact duties at different times. All in all, he hoped that they resolved their differences, although if he were being honest with himself, he'd miss hanging out with Garcia.

Sadly, he didn't have time to ponder relationships. On his schedule for this weekend was cleaning his living room, Jack's bedroom, and then he needed to tackle his family room before advancing the laundry from the washer to the dryer. First priority had to be the living room. He had hardwood floors, and at the moment, there were some dust bunnies under his couch he dreaded more than most Unsubs.

He was about to turn on his vacuum, when he heard his phone ring. He reached for the phone, saw who was calling, and picked up. "Hotchner."

"That's something we have to change about you, sir," Garcia's voice replied with a laugh. "No one should answer the phone that formally, especially during down time."

"Pure habit," he replied honestly. He'd seen the name Garcia come up and had immediately launched into work mode.

"Ooh, that isn't good," she said, tsking her tongue in disapproval. "If we're trying to loosen you up, we have to fix that. Number one rule to looseness: Home is home, work is work."

Listening to her words, Hotch internally nodded. He'd heard that lesson before. Haley had tried to teach him to leave work behind a million times, and he'd never paid heed. He'd been too busy slaying dragons and trying to keep the world safe...

Except when it really had mattered.

Stopping himself from reminiscing too much, he asked, "What did you call for, Penelope?"

"I felt like I kind of ruined last week with my crying," she said rather sheepishly.

"You didn't."

His attempt at reassurance obviously didn't work because she said, "Well, I disagree. So! This _wildcat_ is wondering what you're up to today."

"Mostly housework," he answered.

She mock gasped. "I'm picturing you in a frilly apron."

"I can assure you I'm not wearing that."

"Hotch, I _told_ you not to leave the door open for me!" she warned.

He smiled at Penelope's tinkling and infectious giggle. "I'm still learning."

"You'll get there," she said, and then she paused a second before asking, "Would you be interested in dinner?"

That surprised him. "Dinner?"

"Yes. Supper, the last meal of the day, _le heure du souper_..." Her voice had that touch of humor in it that said she was teasing. Not sarcastically—Garcia was rarely ever sarcastic—but in a way that fit her personality.

"I'm aware of the word, Garcia," he answered flatly, shaking his head. Really, she was too much.

His tone must've been a bit too formal, because she began to stammer. "Umm...well...sir. _Would_ you like to go for dinner? I have...ah...free time, and we could go...I mean, if you're free and..."

"Garcia," he interrupted. "I would love to go."

"Really?" she said, sounding so excited, he couldn't help but smile.

"Well, Jack is at the Brooks's for the weekend," he replied, "and dinner sounds nice. Maybe even a movie," he added before he even thought about what he was saying.

"Wow, Aaron," she said, no small amount of surprise in her voice. "That sounds like a certified, true, honest-to-goodness date. Is it?"

He thought about it for a moment. "I believe it is."

He thought about that for a second. Was he serious? Going to dinner, spending time talking to Penelope, a movie? Instead of sounding awkward or strange, or being appalled at the duty, it sounded really good.

What did that say about him?

"Seriously?"

Yes," he answered, keeping his tone earnest. She'd been teased far too much by someone else. "I am serious."

"Well, I accept that date, sir," she said saucily, "and I raise you another date on another weekend, because _I_ owe _you_. Not the other way around."

"You don't owe me, Garcia," he answered. "You're doing me the favor."

Before, he'd simply said that for her benefit. Now...he wondered.

"I know a really good sushi restaurant that will have openings at six," she said.

He was worried. "I've been out of it quite a while, but even I know that is prime dinner hour. Can we get in?"

He heard typing on the other line.

"I just put us in...at a very nice table, thank you very much!"

He groaned, knowing that she'd just broken some tech law. "Garcia..."

"Too late to chastise!" she said quickly. "See you tonight!"

* * *

Osaka was a happening place that night. It was a gorgeous Japanese restaurant with a koi pond in the middle, a small bridge crossing to dark wood tables that were recessed into the floor. The chairs were large, colorful cushions in a variety of darkened colors.

Penelope took a seat on the ground, and then Aaron joined her. It was in the corner of the room, overlooking the fish pond on one side and the balcony on the other—obviously a much-prized locale in the crowded restaurant.

"I shouldn't encourage your misbehavior," he said under his breath, "but this really is a spectacular view."

She smiled back. "Thanks! It's really great sushi, here, too. Closest to home."

"Do you miss California?"

That little, harmless comment started a long conversation about everything, nothing, and anything. It was obvious Penelope had been feeling lonely lately since she'd broken her relationship with Kevin Lynch. It seemed that things with Morgan were somewhat strained, too, but the right time to discuss him never seemed to come up. He didn't push; she seemed to be relaxing around him. Perhaps talking to him seemed to fill some of that loneliness she'd been feeling?

He could relate; he understood loneliness.

Time had flown by. When the waitress came back to fill their tea pot for the fifth time, Penelope must've realized how much time had elapsed.

"Oh, God," she said. "We're going to miss the movie."

They'd decided on seeing a drama that was highly rated. He'd been looking forward to seeing the story—it sounded fascinating—but at the moment, he was happier where he was.

"Would that be such a bad thing?" he asked hopefully. "I'm really enjoying our talk, and we can't do that if a movie is playing."

She stared at him for a moment, before a smile graced her face. "No, it wouldn't," she answered, shifting in her spot and wincing. "However, I do need to get up..."

He rose to his feet and reached for her hands. "Let me help."

With a tug, he pulled Penelope to her feet, and she careened directly into him. She looked embarrassed to have been off balance, but he didn't mind.

She felt surprisingly good.

"Easy, now," he said, helping her stand.

"Sorry about that," she said as she gained her footing.

He smiled softly to ease her discomfiture. "A walk to wake up your legs?"

She returned the smile. "That would be nice."

* * *

They strolled through a nearby park, talking more, and laughing. The night was becoming a wonderful success. It was far better than he'd ever expected it to be. He found himself wanting to come back tomorrow, and the day after, but only if she were available.

They stopped at a coffee shop to get two lattes and then continued on their walk, sometimes simply walking in silence. There wasn't a need to talk, and there was peace in just being.

Aaron hadn't realized how truly lonely he had been. His life had been centered around work, Jack, settling Haley's affairs; there was no time for his needs. Basic needs that had gone long denied.

His needs definitely included adult companionship and conversation.

He also noticed that she was smiling, looking casual and relaxed. The more time she spent with him, the more he saw her as a friend, and he believed he was getting that same feeling back.

_Maybe something a little more?_ his mind questioned gently, surprising him.

Trying to avoid that line of thinking, he asked the one question he'd been waiting for the right moment to ask. "Have you spoken to Morgan lately?"

Penelope's steps became a little awkward, showing her discomposure, but then she smoothed back into a stroll. "Yes. I called him Friday when the team got back."

By the strained tone in her voice, he could tell she was upset. The conversation they've had must've been lackluster. Penelope's lifeblood was talking to Derek, as was Morgan's in return; she sparkled when she talked to him.

Approaching gently, he lead, saying, "I take it it was a short conversation?"

"He was busy," she said. "He seemed very busy, heading out for an appointment and such."

Morgan did have to leave for a doctor's appointment directly after they'd landed. Hotch cleared his throat. "He has been very busy."

She smiled at him in a disbelieving way. "You don't need to make excuses, Hotch. It's okay; I've been busy, too."

From her tone, that was finality, and although she sounded hurt, he was going to leave it at that. They were having a great evening, and he didn't want to spoil it by upsetting her.

As they walked in silence, his thoughts returned to his own needs. He didn't want a relationship, and what he was feeling...he didn't deem it sexual, although he couldn't deny that someday, it could be. They were both healthy adults. Still, what he wanted was to help her and help Morgan, who he liked an respected. But now...he knew he wanted a friend.

It wasn't that he had didn't have friends—he did. Dave was a good friend, as were Sam Cooper and a few other people he'd known from school or work. Still, the casual friendship alluded him. He used to have a great deal of casual-type friends. When he'd separated from Haley, a lot of his friends from outside of work had done the traditional thing of taking sides, and most had chosen Haley.

He couldn't blame them; he would've chosen her, too. His life had been in shambles, far more than he'd let on.

Maybe this was good for him? Maybe it was time to get on his feet and get back into the social ring again.

He smiled at his pretty blonde friend next to him as she looped her arm through his again and let her warmth take away the bad memories to replace them with good.


	10. Chapter 10

_AN: Thanks so much for the reviews...here we go with another chapter..._

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**Chapter 10**

Early the next Monday morning, Derek Morgan jogged up the stairs, in a rush to get to the lair of the goddess he couldn't wait to see. Friday, he'd had his second meeting with his counselor, and he was feeling much better. That night was the first night he hadn't had a nightmare. His swagger was back, and he wanted to share it with Penelope.

He'd tried reaching her the entire weekend, leaving messages and texts both days for her to give him a call when she had a chance. It did make him somewhat worried; Penelope usually called him back within moments after he called her.

Finally, late Sunday night, she'd returned his calls. Unfortunately for him, he'd been in the shower when the call came in, and it had been too late to call her back. She'd left a message, saying she'd been busy the whole weekend and she'd have to touch base with him on Monday at work.

"This goddess has lost her magic pixie dust, lover," she'd said, sounding exactly as tired as the words had said she was. "I'm heading straight to the land of Nod."

Stopping at their favorite local coffee shop, he picked up one Americano and one soy, triple foam, double shot, half whip, sugar-free caramel macchiato—with a chocolate-covered coffee bean perched on the side for later. He'd had them make the second drink extra hot so it would still be warm by the time he'd parked and made it to the fifth floor.

As he entered the floor, he realized his palms were sweating, and it had nothing to do with that extra hot coffee he was carrying. He was downright nervous to see her. It reminded him of being young, wanting to sit next to the pretty girl in class, hoping and praying he didn't make an ass of himself. It was a bizarre feeling; he'd never been nervous around Penelope before...

Well, almost.

Standing in front of her open office door, he peered in to see if she was busy. His gorgeous girl was sitting in front of her computer, her headset on, tapping away at the keyboard as she talked to someone. He cleared his throat to get her attention.

Penelope turned to see him. Her lovely pink lips rounded with surprise first, and then she smiled brilliantly, making his heart skip a beat. She covered the mouth piece on her headset. "Hi, handsome."

"Hey, beautiful," he said, stepping past the doorway into her office.

She put up a finger and waved it, stopping him from talking, so he paused. He wondered who she had on the phone.

"I'll have that on your desk quicker than Jack can kick a goal," she said, solving the caller mystery. She waited for a second and then gave a rather naughty-sounding chuckle...one Derek wouldn't have thought she'd use with Hotch. Finally, she said, "Okay. See you later."

Turning back to him, she smiled and shrugged. "That was Hotch."

"I gathered that," Derek answered blandly, and then quickly changed his tone. "This is for you."

Internally, he chastised himself. This was ridiculous. He needed to stop being jealous of Hotch.

"Ooh!" she gushed. "Hot Stuff brought me hot stuff!"

He smiled at her as he took his usual spot on the edge of the desk. "So...I'm still your Hot Stuff, hmm?"

"Mmm hmm," she answered, taking a sip of her drink and then waving her hand at her mouth to cool it down.

"That's good."

"Well, _one_ of them," she continued, smirking wickedly at him.

Derek shook his head as she teased him mercilessly. "You are a minx, Baby Girl. You know that, right?"

She sighed dramatically and then leaned back in her chair, looking very pleased with herself. "I try."

He chuckled. "Stop pulling my chain, momma."

Her eyes sparkled over her coffee cup, like twin pools of the most potent whiskey known to man. "Poor sweet cheeks."

"That's right, angel," he drawled. "You can pity me. I've been neglected."

She tilted her head to the side. "How so?"

"I called this weekend for you, and I never got to speak to you," he explained. "I gotta have my daily dose of Garcia magic."

She giggled. "Oh, you abused soul!"

He grinned back at her. "Don't you know it!"

The way they were talking reminded him of old times. They were flirting and laughing together, and it felt so good. Maybe he wasn't losing her and things hadn't really changed, and this stupid jealousy and worry was for nothing. He'd like to keep things like they've been for a while longer, while he got his shit together. His attitude was better—he was getting his groove thing on—but he still wasn't one hundred percent. If he had more time, he could be ready to be more of what she really needed.

Feeling far better than he had even a couple of hours ago, he put his coffee cup down and stood behind her, starting to rub her shoulders like he'd done a thousand times before.

"Ohhhh...ohhh, that feels good," she murmured.

He thought it felt wonderful, too, caressing her shoulders, her silky hair falling over his fingers as he worked the muscles near her neck. Her fragrance—light, fruity, and floral—tantalized him. She always smelled so wonderful, like a sweet peach he wanted to taste.

"I'm sorry I didn't get back to you," she said and then moaned as he worked a little kink he felt in her upper back.

"That's okay, pretty girl," he answered softly. God, he loved the feel of her, soft, feminine, the curves of her shoulders barely filling his large hands. Curiosity got the best of him, and he questioned, "Where were you, anyway?"

"I went out with Hotch on Saturday."

A sharp pain he recognized as a whoosh of panic settled in Derek's chest. _Shit!_ Two weekends in a row, she'd gone out with Hotch?

_Not so ridiculous after all, eh, Morgan?_ his conscience goaded him.

"Oh." He tried to sound nonchalant, but his voice sounded frog-like and distant, even to himself.

"Mmm hmm," she replied in the affirmative.

Penelope leaned back, rested her head against his hard abs, and smiled up at him with dreamy eyes. "Don't stop. You have magic hands, Mr. Morgan."

Derek hadn't even realized he'd stopped rubbing. Clearing his throat, he continued, "Where'd you go?"

"My goodness," she said, turning as she giggled and arched a brow at him. "Is this twenty questions?"

He blanched, realizing how he must've sounded. "No, I...um..."

She smiled. "I'm teasing, D. We went to dinner. It was nice."

"I'm glad," he said, the words feeling metallic and bitter on his tongue.

"We were going to see a movie, but we got busy talking."

Dinner _and a movie_? Like a real, honest-to-goodness, damned date.

She turned back in her seat, presumably so he could rub her shoulders again. "And then Sunday I went along to see Jack play soccer."

"Soccer?" he echoed, feeling the room closing in on him.

"Yes, he's very good," she said, babbling like she always did when she was excited about something. "He came home from Haley's family a day early for his game, and Hotch invited me along. Actually, Jackers invited me. I'd forgotten my scarf in the car, and when Hotch said it was mine, he asked if I could come see him play."

Derek tried to smile, but he was finding it increasingly hard to do so. He couldn't lose her. Not now.

Not again.

"Did you have fun with Claudette?" she asked, turning to face him again, a big, bright, unaffected smile on her face. "She seemed very interested in you!"

To add insult to injury, she winked at him, in her sweet way sanctioning the union between himself and Claudette.

Derek's mind was whirling. He'd thought she'd been upset. He'd thought she'd been into their dance... He thought...

_Christ_. He didn't know _what_ he thought anymore.

He forced a smile. "Yeah, it was great. I gotta run, sweetheart."

She looked a little sad. "Oh, okay. Later, honey?"

"Yeah," he muttered again, rushing into his office before he did something really ridiculous, like grab her, shake her, and then kiss her over and over until she realized he was the man for her...the _only_ man for her. Ever.

But first...

Derek shut his office door, locked it, and then sat behind his desk, taking a deep breath. A moment later, he picked up the phone and dialed quickly.

"Second Chance Trauma Counseling, may I help you?"

"This is Derek Morgan...do you have an appointment available this evening?"


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews, everyone... We haven't really heard much from our girl... I think it's about time to be P focused. This is a huge chapter. It started as two, but I wanted to get it all into one...

* * *

**Chapter 11**

The rest of the week wasn't very pleasant for Penelope. Her heart ached, so much it felt truly sore in her chest. She'd spent a great deal of the week trying to think about what she'd done wrong, not able to come up with anything. It sucked, and it made her a grumpy kitten.

Saturday came too quickly for her. Hotch arrived at her place promptly, nearly an hour before show time. Penelope really appreciated his punctuality, but she was very unhappy. She really didn't want to go. If she didn't know Derek was going to be there with Claudette with the cotton candy brain, she would probably be anticipating the music. She really wished he didn't tell her. Now, she couldn't help reminiscing and feeling a touch let down.

Wednesday night, while she was sorting her mail, she'd gotten a call from Derek...

"_Hey, Hot Stuff," she said. She'd just finished working out, so she was a little winded._

"_Hey, baby," he said, his voice dropping a little in the way it did when he was concerned. "You okay?"_

"_Yes," she said, "I was working out."_

"_Oooh," he purred. "I can see you now. Sweet and sexy goddess, glistening with sweat."_

_She could practically see the leer on his face, and it made her smile. Monday, he'd stopped in her office, and they'd shared a laugh, a flirt, as they used to. She'd decided at that moment that she'd take what she could from his friendship. There was too much history, too much everything between them to let it go. Lightness was better than not speaking to him at all._

"_Well, angelfish, I hate to burst your bubble," she replied honestly, "but this is really just a sweaty, sore, and stinky goddess right now."_

_He chuckled, and the sound made goose bumps rise on her skin. "Want me to come over and rub you down?"_

_Oooh...he was such a tease!_

"_Silly boy," she said. "As much as I appreciate your offer, I truly must decline. It's late, and I'm going to soak away my soreness in a vat of bubbles."_

"_Sounds good."_

_A drip of sweat rolled down her cleavage, causing her to itch, and hasten her conversation. "What did you call for, honey?" _

"_Can't I call just to talk to my favorite girl?" he returned._

"_Not when Calgon is calling to take me away."_

_Derek laughed. "Okay, tell Mr. Bubble to hold on for a minute. I was wondering what you were up to this weekend, Miss Busy Bee?"_

_She thought for a second. "Hmm. Why do you ask?"_

"_Because," he drawled slowly. "I have two tickets to the chamber orchestra. I'm thinking about going and thought maybe you'd want to come with?"_

_She perked up for a moment, and then she winced. "Saturday night?"_

"_The very same," he said, and then he paused and added, "How did you know?"_

"_I'm going that night..." she said, "...with Hotch."_

"_Hotch?"_

_Oh...that tone didn't sound so good._

_She cleared her throat and answered clearly. "Yes. It's our fourth date."_

"_Fourth date? Really?" _

_Feeling sorry for Hotch, she responded defensively, "Yes, it's our fourth date."_

"_Wow."_

"_He's really a very nice guy, Derek, once you get him out of work."_

"_I know."_

"_He's kind and fun and a good dancer."_

"_That's great."_

"_And he's got a good sense of—"_

"_Penelope. You don't have to extol the virtues of Hotch to me," he said back, in that same snappy tone he'd had earlier. "I've known the man for years."_

"_Derek, I'm not 'extolling' anyone's virtues," she snapped back. "I'm just going out with a friend and defending him. I would do the same thing for you if someone said something in that tone of voice you just used."_

_There was no answer. She looked at the phone, and it looked like the connection was still live._

"_Uh, D?" she asked. "You still there?"_

"_I'm here, Baby Girl," he said softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound disrespectful to either you or Hotch. I was just.. surprised, that's all."_

"_It's okay, Hot Stuff," she murmured, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. They'd just argued, and she didn't like it when they argued. _

_As she thought about it, she realized that he had sounded...jealous. Jealous of Hotch and the relationship she had with him._

"_I suppose I'll see you there, then," he said, still sounding rather downbeat._

"_So...who are you going to take?" she asked, unable to stop herself, knowing she didn't really want to know the answer._

_He laughed, but it lacked real mirth, kind of like when a punchline had gone wrong. "Well, I was gonna see if my Baby Girl wanted to go with me, but she's busy."_

"_Claudette?" she asked, keeping her tone cheerful. Ugh. She hated seeing Derek with that brainless twit who was trying to worm her way into Derek's heart._

"_I suppose I could," he answered and then changed the subject. "Did you get your tickets from Reid?"_

"_We did," she said. _

"_Whoa...we?" he asked, sounding surprised._

"_Hotch and I."_

"_Thinking in the terms of 'we' now, huh? That's cozy." She could tell he was trying to be light and teasing, but it sounded miserably flat._

_She laughed, but it was brittle, too. "Yeah, I guess."_

_At that moment, the conversation drew to a near-dead stop. She was certain she could hear a pin drop. It was the worst moment she could ever remember, even worse than being shot—not being able to talk to Derek Morgan._

"_Penelope?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_Hotch is one hell of a lucky man."_

_She almost told him then, that they weren't really dating, but she didn't do that. She couldn't do that. Not to Hotch. A promise was a promise._

"_Thanks, Hot Stuff." _

"_Goodnight."_

"_Goodnight," she replied, her heart feeling even more sore than her body did._

Dammit, she hated moping. And it wasn't like she didn't enjoy her time with Hotch—she did, very much. He just wasn't her partner in crime, the Clyde to her Bonnie, her soul mate.

All in all...he simply wasn't Derek.

She knew that was patently unfair, and she wasn't going to ruin Hotch's good time because she was in a snit. Although they both knew it was pretend, that they were just friends, she'd be a devoted date. She'd buck up, and she'd have a great time, regardless of her pained heart.

She'd dressed carefully in a blue velvet cocktail dress that had indigo hues when she turned and little diamante stars at the bust line that trailed to her waist in a shimmering waterfall. It wasn't new, but she'd never worn it before. She'd never had an occasion to wear it.

"You look beautiful, Penelope," Hotch said, his smile radiant and his low, gravelly voice soothing to her, as he helped her on with her wrap.

She turned in his arms, forced her smile, and answered, "And you look very dashing—and handsome."

She brought her hands up to fix his tie, like she would have to do for Derek anytime they went out—Derek's tie was always askew; she had a feeling he did that on purpose—and found that it was already perfect. Her heart panged painfully, but she ignored it.

Apparently, her discomfort showed. Hotch arched a brow at her, his expression showing the utmost concern. "Penelope, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

His brow remained raised as he said, "We don't need to go. We can do something else, if you'd like."

Tears caught in her throat at how caring and sweet he was. She managed a true smile. "Really, Aaron. It's okay."

He nodded, but he didn't look convinced.

She held out her arm. "Shall we?"

He extended his arm to her, and they walked out the front door of her apartment to his waiting Lexus.

* * *

Arriving at Orchestra Hall, Hotch took her wrap and checked it at the door. Again, he offered her his arm as he guided her to their seats. She was reminded again that he was such a gentleman. It was nice having that kind of respect from a man. Derek sometimes let her fend for herself, and Kevin always had, but Aaron wasn't that kind of person. She felt like a true lady with him.

Amazingly, Derek and Claudette were already in their seats. She huffed under her breath. For the first time in his life, Derek Morgan was early to something. He usually liked to come in just as everything was starting, and she liked to be early, but tonight, for some reason, he was punctual. Now she was there, fifteen minutes early, watching him coo to Claudette.

Derek rose the moment he saw them, and her breath caught in her throat. He was devistatingly handsome, in his dark suit that fit him like a glove and his _Fifty Shades of Grey_ tie she liked to tease him about that showed off his mocha complexion to perfection.

It wasn't askew, either. It made her wonder if Claudette had fixed it for him...

Derek extended his hand to Hotch first. "Hey, Hotch."

Hotch returned the handshake. "Morgan."

"This is my date, Claudette," he said, gesturing to the big-breasted woman in the skintight, red satin dress. It was shiny, like a new penny. Penelope wondered if she'd be able to see it even with the lights off.

"Hello. Pleased to meet you, Hitch," she said, shaking Hotch's hand in a limp grasp.

Hotch have a half smile, showing amusement. "It's Hotch, but most people call me Aaron. Nice to meet you, too."

"Ooh! Aaron! I like that name!" Claudette cheered. "That's first on Santa's naughty and nice list, isn't it?"

Penelope almost groaned for Derek. What an airhead!

Hotch chuckled. "I believe you're right."

"Claudette, this is Penelope," Derek said, gesturing to her.

She shook Claudette's hand and lied, "Nice to meet you."

It was very hard to be nice to someone who had her arm around the middle that she usually hugged!

"I've heard so much about you," Claudette said without a twinge of animosity.

"All good, I hope," Penelope replied, trying to be nice and polite. This woman obviously wasn't the threat Penelope had thought she was. She couldn't mastermind programming a DVR, much less stealing Derek Morgan from her. In fact, she was almost...nice. Poor thing. She was simply a pawn in a bad game of cat and mouse.

The four made small talk with each other, and then it divided off, with Derek and Hotch talking shop. She was unfortunately stuck speaking to Claudette, who really was as dim as she appeared to be. It made her feel sad for Derek—and for what he deserved. Claudette was an obvious easy piece of ass.

_Don't get sucked into this playboy's love life, Garcie_, she warned herself. _Get it through your skull; he doesn't really want a true relationship with you...or any woman._

The strains of the orchestra began a warm-up chord, and the lights in the magnificent hall flashed in preparation for lights out.

"Show's about to start," Derek said, looking over and meeting her eyes.

She nodded and glanced at Hotch, who was looking at his program.

Hotch...a serious man, looking for a serious relationship.

Slowly, she reached over and held his hand.

Hotch gave her a surprised look, then he leaned closer to her ear. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

She murmured back. "I'm fine."

He squeezed her hand back reassuringly. She crossed her legs, turning so she could comfortably converse with Hotch and noticed Derek sliding his arm around Claudette's bare shoulders.

Her crazy, stupid heart leapt in her chest again in that painful thud. She leaned even closer to Hotch and laid her head on his shoulder, trying to immerse herself in the strong safety of her now-dear friend.


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews!..Here we go with the next chapter...

* * *

**Chapter 12**

After nearly an hour, Penelope absolutely needed to excuse herself. She couldn't take one more minute of sitting in the hall, pretending to like the music. The orchestra was okay and the song being played were lovely, but she just couldn't sit there anymore.

Her entire neck and temples hurt from tension. She'd tried everything she could to relax and stop over-thinking. First, she focused on the instruments and chose the clarinet section for further evaluation. She'd played clarinet in high school band and thought that might interest her. Five minutes into her quandary, memories of Mr. Duweedle, her horrible band teacher, came back to haunt her, and she was done with the orchestra pit. She tried counting ceiling tiles, but couldn't focus well enough in the darkness. She tried to guess the next song that was going to play, but she wasn't an affectionado of classical music and quickly ran out of choices.

And then, just when she would start to relax, small things would happen and cause her misery. She would hear Derek's low, melodic voice whisper something to Claudette, causing the bubble head to chuckle. She would strain to hear and wonder what Derek had said to her. She could smell Claudette's perfume, a heavy, vanilla-laced spicy blend that wafted into the air every time she moved. At first, it had been appealing, but now...the woman stunk. With the way she was crawling on him, how on earth Derek could stand the heavy floral of that woman's stench, she would never know.

Penelope's already acidic stomach began to churn, and she worried she'd lose her cookies if she stayed in the room.

"Having a good time?" Hotch asked, leaning down just slightly to talk to her.

"I have a slight headache, that's all," she murmured.

_Slight...like being slightly pregnant or slightly dead._

"Do you need some fresh air?" he questioned. "There's a balcony on the second floor."

She almost cried out in joy, her relief was so heartfelt. She nodded quickly. "I think I should do that."

Hotch nodded brusquely with understanding. "Of course."

He put his program down, ready to rise with her, but she didn't really want company. She just needed air and some time to breathe and put her crazy thoughts out of her head.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "No, please. Stay here."

He gave her a concerned look. "Are you sure?"

He was such a dear for caring. She nodded and rubbed his shoulder gently. "I'll be back before you even know I'm gone."

He smiled at her. "I highly doubt that, Garcia. You are unforgettable."

Penelope felt tears rush to her eyes. Hotch had become her steadfast hero, and she was so lucky to have him in her life. "Thank you."

He winked. "Hurry back."

Giving a quick nod, she stood and hurried out the end of the aisle. Orchestra Hall was a huge building, very old-fashioned, like a antebellum plantation house. Reid had given them mezzanine seats, which were on the first level, and Penelope knew she needed to get to the balcony. She spied the split entry, with large gilt and marble staircases on both sides. She picked the one on the right and started heading upward on the red carpeted stairs.

Finding the large French doors at the end of the hallway, she opened them and stepped out. Her heels clicked noisily on the marble parquet, echoing the harsh beating of her heart, as she reached the railing. She gripped it like it was her lifeline, taking a deep, cleansing breath of the fresh night air, trying desperately to lose the cloying scent of Claudette that seemed to coat her nostrils.

She closed her eyes, inhaling slowly, and prayed to make it through this night.

"Are you feeling any better?"

Penelope would've known that deep voice anywhere. She didn't even have to turn, which was good, since she didn't want to look at him. "Yes."

She should've known he'd follow her. She thought bitterly how appropriate this was. When she wanted to escape him, mentally or physically, she couldn't. His strength was too great.

The clicking of men's dress shoes behind her told her he was approaching. She felt something settle on her shoulders—his suit jacket. It was still warm from his body and had the crispness of his expensive cologne mixed in, along with Derek's clean, masculine scent.

"I thought you might need that," he commented, "since your shoulders are bare."

"Thank you," she answered, glancing at him, but briefly. She pulled his suit jacket around her tighter and steadied her view off the balcony. She was grateful for the warmth of his coat; the late spring evening air was very cold.

"You're welcome."

They stood silently next to one another, and she could feel the air charging with unsaid things. Things she wanted to say, things he wanted to say. There was so much between them, so much history, and it was all fresh and raw.

"You look beautiful tonight," he said, his voice throaty, the words anticlimactic.

"So does your date," she answered, and if she sounded a touch snippy...well, big whoop. She was human.

"Penelope...I want to tell you something," he said softly.

She focused on him, her curiosity winning out on her other thoughts. "What?"

For a long moment, he stared at her, as if he were drinking in the sight of her. She shivered, and he reached over, closing the coat a little more over her frame, the brush of his fingers against her cheek sending tingles of awareness throughout her body.

As he held the coat closed, a delicate smile curved his lips. "I miss you."

She took a hold of the lapels of the coat, tugged them close herself. A second later, she shook her head and started to look out over the balcony again.

"Penelope?"

"I don't believe that."

"Why would... Hey." He stopped, held her shoulders, and turned her to face him. "Why don't you believe that?"

She sighed. "Because we haven't really talked in weeks, Derek."

"I know, honey—"

"You've been so distant, not telling me anything in your life," she snapped.

"I'm sorry."

"Or only telling me things that have less substance than Claudette's brain!" she huffed and then said quickly, "Sorry to say that, but it's true."

"It is true."

Now that she started talking, she couldn't stop. "It hurts, D. I feel like I've been ignored. Like I don't matter to you."

"No," he said vehemently. "You matter, Baby Girl, more than anyone else matters in my life."

She snorted. "Don't lie to me."

"Woman, I have never lied to you. I'm not starting now," he objected.

"Derek, I heard you," she said, turning her head to glare at him. "You said to Reid weeks ago that you wanted to take Claudette to this."

"That was because I didn't stand a chance with you then."

Her heart started to pound in her chest, and he suddenly felt far too close for comfort. She clenched her jaw for a second and then relaxed it. "Really. What changed?"

"I've changed!" he told her passionately. "Or at least, I'm trying to change. Baby, give me a chance."

"How can I give you a chance?" she questioned angrily. "You haven't been around, Derek! You've been too busy to hang out, too busy to call, too busy—"

"Hold up, woman," he said flatly. "You were the one too busy to talk to me last weekend."

"Well, give the boy a medal!" she snidely retorted. "One weekend I'm too busy, but you...you've had countless weekends and weeknights you haven't been around!"

He opened his mouth to respond, and then he shut it, and then he opened it again, and shut it. It would've been comical if her heart wasn't about to explode. She turned from him and gripped the rail, trying to maintain her composure and keep the tears from rushing to her eyes.

Derek finally responded, and it was so quiet, it caught her off guard. "Penelope...please."

She turned to face him again, frowning, her head and her heart aching.

"I don't think I've ever begged anyone before in my life, but I'm begging you," he said. "Please...give me a chance."

She swallowed hard and tears welled in her eyes. "I will always be your friend, Derek."

"Baby Girl, I'm not talking about friendship here," he said sharply, giving her a no-nonsense look. "I think we both know that."

Her heart leaped from her chest to her throat, and it was difficult to breathe. Oh, God...he was finally asking her, and he was being serious about it. Deadly serious, judging by the expression on his face. It was surreal...but something was wrong. She could feel it in her gut. There was a desperation about him, as if he felt rushed and unready.

How could something so right feel so wrong?

"Just stop seeing Hotch and give me a little more time."

Her stomach churned again and she stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. "I can't do that."

"Just a month or two!" he pleaded. "Please, baby...let me work out some wrinkles, and I promise you—"

"Why?" she asked, both miffed and curious at the same time. "What wrinkles?"

She could see that internal wall going up, the one that frustrated and irritated her for weeks now. Stone by stone, walling him off from her.

He shook his head. "Some things I have to fix on my own. I'm doing it; it's what I've been busy with."

"Fix what?" she asked again. "Tell me, Derek!"

She could see him fighting his own demons, like he desperately wanted to tell her, but that wall was now complete, holding him back. As he remained silent, the wall fortified, and another sliver of her heart shattered and fell away.

It was hopeless.

She steeled herself. She couldn't help Derek, but at least she could help Hotch. "I'm not going to stop seeing Hotch."

Derek ran a hand over his bald head in frustration. "Do you want to see me lose my mind?"

"No, but—"

"Because you won if you did," he snarled, his desperation making him sound nasty. "I'm so jealous, I _despise_ seeing the two of you together."

"That's not why I'm seeing him," she said defensively.

"Tell me why," he demanded. "Give me two reasons why him and not me. Why we don't deserve this chance."

Her hands felt bloodless, nerveless as she gripped them. "I can't tell you that."

"He's wrong, damn it!" he snapped, pulling her into his arms. "He is completely wrong for you."

Oh, how she wanted to melt into his embrace. She missed being held by him, talking to him, being with him. She missed every part of him, and she could see it in his eyes that he missed her the same way, too.

"Can't you see?" he said, his voice hoarse with emotion, cupping her cheek in his hand. "We're meant for each other. You need me, just like I need you."

Her heart thudded dully in her chest. He seemed broken, and it killed her to see him that way.

And there wasn't a damned thing she could do about it.

"No, Derek," she whispered softly. "You don't." She pressed her way out of his embrace and then stepped back, the tears flowing down her cheeks. "I don't think you'll let yourself need anybody."

Before he could respond, she turned and saw that the balcony was now crowed with people staring at them, watching the private "show" they'd given. The jacket flew off her shoulders as she rushed off the now-crowded balcony, trying to immerse herself into the throngs of people at intermission.


	13. Chapter 13

AN: Thank you for the reviews...Here we go with the next chapter! This is one of my favorite chapters...I hope you like it, too

* * *

**Chapter 13**

When Penelope flew by the crowd, tears streaming down her face, she didn't even notice she'd passed by Hotch. He hadn't expected that she would; she was far too focused on getting away from the man she so obviously loved.

Hotch had known there was chemistry between Penelope and Morgan, that was why he'd been helping them along. What he didn't know was that what he'd been thinking, what had been in his gut and why he'd embarked on this journey, was that he'd been right all along. The love that flared between them was definitely reciprocated, a true and living thing. It was so alive and electric, it had lit the balcony with the sparks that were flying, like fireworks in the night sky.

It was a painful thing to watch. Not because of how he felt for Garcia, and he wasn't going to deny he was starting to have feelings for her, but because he recognized himself in Morgan. The conversation Morgan and Garcia had been having reminded him of a time, not so long ago, when he'd argued with Haley. She'd begged him to put their family first, to give up his beloved career, to love her and Jack more than he loved his work. At the time, he'd thought she was insane for asking that; of course he loved Jack and Haley far more than the BAU.

"_No, you don't, Aaron!" she cried. "You give your all to them and come home angry, exhausted, and haunted. I can't touch that, and I need to."_

"_You do...Jack does," he cajoled, trying to calm her. "This is my peace, Haley. I need this. You make it bearable."_

_Her face fell. She whispered in a broken voice, "I just don't believe you." _

What he'd said had been true. He hadn't wanted to trouble her with the filth and depravity that filled his workday. Haley and Jack had been innocent; they hadn't signed up for this, and he hadn't wanted to sully them with it. His motto had been—and still was—that the BAU was the BAU, home was home, and the twain would never—should never—meet.

She'd walked away then, and he'd let her. At the time, he'd thought she would come around...but she never did. And he'd continued to unwittingly distance himself from the one person who made him whole.

Now, it was far, far too late.

Watching Derek Morgan standing there, leaning on the banister as he gripped it so tightly, his knuckles were white with stress, Hotch knew deep in his heart that Derek was going to make the same mistake.

And he couldn't let that happen, because, just like the crowd that had gathered on the balcony, drawn in by the love story that played out in front of them, he wanted to see their happy ending.

He took a few steps and stood side by side with Derek. "Morgan."

Derek glanced at him. "Hey, Hotch."

"We need to talk."

Morgan sighed and then shook his head and looked over the balcony. "Not right now, okay?"

Hotch wasn't surprised Morgan had dismissed him that quickly. Derek wanted to wallow in the pit of mire he'd dug for himself, determined to climb out of it on his lonesome in true, Alpha-male style. Hotch knew that maneuver well. He'd done it himself a thousand times before. Asking for help was like asking for directions; it just wasn't done.

Moving closer to the railing himself, he held it lightly and glanced out over the landscape. There were shades of gray in the black of night, and he thought of what he was feeling. There were many nuances in his mind right now, too.

"Did you see what happened?" Morgan asked warily, still staring out over the darkness.

Turning his focus back to his friend, he said, "Enough."

Derek's jaw tensed, the only sign of his discomfiture. "I'm sorry."

"That's ironic," Hotch said, which caused Derek to look at him. "I was thinking I felt sorry for you."

Morgan's eyes narrowed in a stance of pure, masculine aggression. "Listen, Hotch. Let it be."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," he said shortly, "but there is a woman we both care very much about feeling a lot of pain right now. I think that negates your wish to 'let it be.'" He tilted his head to the left, just slightly, to punctuate his point. "Don't you agree?"

Chagrin crossed Morgan's expression and he nodded.

At that moment, there was silence. Hotch liked silence with most people, but whenever he was with Derek or Penelope, it made him uncomfortable. When the two of them were silent, something was wrong. He wished he had the flask Rossi carried in his jacket, so he could take a drink and then share it with Morgan. He wasn't that prepared...

Grabbing the bull by the horns, he said, "You're making a huge mistake."

Derek snorted in true self-derision. "I've been good at that lately. I'm just one big fucking mistake."

"What happened between the two of you?" he lead, but gently.

"You heard it tonight."

He gave Morgan a simple look. The two of them had known each other for years. Derek knew better than to play dumb with him.

Derek looked at him and arched a brow. "You_ really_ want to know that?"

"Actually, I do," he said softly.

"You want me to start at the beginning?"

"That's not necessary." The corner of Hotch's mouth rose. "I've been around since the beginning, Morgan."

Despite himself, Morgan smiled back. "Yeah, you have."

It was a good sign; they were making headway. He needed to get Derek talking, get him to think and evaluate what he's been doing. However, they didn't have a lot of time; he needed to lead Derek where he should go.

Taking a breath and going with a prayer, Hotch began. "Why don't you start when you started pushing Penelope away?"

Derek startled and then stared at him.

Continuing, Hotch said, "I've seen you two together for a long time, seen your relationship blossom and grow...and then something changed. What is it?"

Derek gave him a flat glance. "Well...that has a lot to do with you."

Hotch almost snickered. "You've been drifting apart long before I came into the picture."

Narrowing his eyes, Morgan snapped, "Well, you sure as hell didn't help things along, now did you?"

Hotch gave him a chastising look. "Stop diverting attention off the real problem and tell me what really caused the rift between you two."

"What the hell is going on?" Derek scowled. "Do you want her?"

Hotch quirked a wry smile at him. "Not as much as you do."

Again, Derek looked taken aback, and then he shook his head. "No one could ever want her as bad as I do."

Hotch didn't doubt that. This man was suffering—from his own purposes mostly, yes, but he still was hurting. And he was Hotch's friend.

"Derek," Hotch said. "Why don't you tell Penelope that?"

"I did," he said flatly. "It didn't matter."

"She wasn't ready?"

Derek's jaw was working again, and waves of tension were rolling off him. He shook his head. "No...I'm not ready."

Hotch let the words sink in for both of them and then questioned gently, "Why do you think you're not ready?"

"Damn," he swore and then closed his eyes and exhaled.

When Morgan opened his eyes, Hotch saw an internal, mental shift in Derek, the shift when Hotch's friendship mattered more than his stance as a worthy opponent.

"It's fucking Buford again," he said, nearly his voice husky and raw. "Back in my nightmares, keeping me awake all hours, even when I exhaust myself."

Hotch had been in those shoes, not being able to sleep, wanting desperately to sleep, yet being afraid to sleep. He used to dream about Haley; good dreams, bad dreams, horrific dreams, even erotic dreams. There were so many nights after Haley's death he'd woken up, feeling such despair, because at least in his dreams, he could be with her again.

"Are you seeking counseling?" Hotch asked. It took time, but he was able to heal.

Derek nodded. "Yes, but it's not doing any good. I even think of the things I've already gotten over years ago, things from my childhood. I keep reliving it, over and over. My hand..." Derek gripped his right hand into a tight fist, shook it, and then slammed his left fist into it. "I can't get the feeling of his hand off mine."

He looked up at Hotch, his face was filled with both anger and anguish. "Penelope means everything to me. How the hell can I go to her this fucked up?"

Hotch empathized with Derek, yet he wanted to shake him, to tell him how precious having someone to love truly was. He wondered if someone had shaken him, talked to him about what he'd done to Haley, if he would've listened.

Looking at the sullen face of his friend, now staring somberly into the darkness, and how similar they were in dealing with problems...he doubted he would've.

He was going to do his best to see that didn't happen.

Keeping that in mind, Hotch proceeded with caution. "This doesn't surprise me."

Derek flinched as Hotch continued, "You've always put Garcia a step above everyone else. She's your princess, your angel, your Baby Girl and, of course, your Goddess. She is, in your mind, perfection."

Derek glanced at him. "I—"

Hotch stated, "In that same arena, you've never liked anyone she's dated. Your disapproval of Kevin was well known among everyone but Garcia, you didn't care for Sam—"

"She dumped him years ago," Derek remarked defensively. "There was a reason for that."

Ignoring the outburst, Hotch said, "And I believe, even though you know and respect me like I do you, over time, I would've fallen short in your mind as a mate for Garcia."

He drew a breath and said lightly but shortly, "Morgan, no one is good enough for Penelope. Not even you."

"Hey, I..." Derek began an argument, but it slowly faded.

Hotch took a deep breath and then said exactly what he wanted to say, what he wished had been said to him years ago, when he still had love to fight for. "You have a choice, Derek. You can go to her, warts and all, and let her in. Let a warm, vital, strong woman care for you as you do her, and live your life. Or you can close her off, lose her forever, and not live at all."

Hotch knew exactly what that personal hell felt like. He wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy...and certainly not on a dear, beloved friend.

He took another breath and finished, "The choice is yours."

The emotion was too strong from Aaron. He'd said all he could say. He turned to leave, but Derek's voice stopped him.

"Hotch."

He looked back at Derek, at the expression of gratitude and humility on his friend's face, and smiled softly. "You don't need to say it, Morgan. That's what friends are for."

Then he went in search of Penelope. She deserved an explanation, too.


	14. Chapter 14

AN: Thank you for the reviews...Next chapter is up! By the way? This is how the story got it's name, not just the _Foreigner_ song...

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**Chapter 14**

After Penelope left Derek standing on the balcony, she weaseled her way back down to the mezzanine area, looking for their seats. She peered through blurry, tear-filled eyes, searching for Hotch.

She gave a shaky sigh. Despite her best intentions, they would have to cut this night short. Understanding soul that Aaron was, he'd agree with any excuse she gave him, and they'd get the hell out of there...even if it was just because she didn't want to see Derek again. She couldn't face Derek now, looking like she'd left a huge chunk of her heart, soul, and spirit out on the balcony to wither away from lack of care.

Stupid contacts! They wouldn't clear because of all the excess water in her eyes. She blinked, trying to bat away the tears, and finally she could see their seats. Unfortunately, the only person remaining in the four seats was Claudette. She was staring blankly at the stage, her foot tapping, even though there was no music to be heard.

For a moment, she found herself even more envious of Claudette. It would be glorious to be so carefree; sitting through a music-free intermission would be toe-tapping spectacular. Still, she might know where Hotch had gone.

Slinking her way back through the crowd standing in the aisles, she murmured her excuses, not wanting to look up. Eventually, she made it back to their seats.

"Claudette," she said huskily.

"Oh, Penelope, yay!" the buxom brunette said with a big smile. Suddenly, her eyes grew wide. "Are you okay? You look awful. Do you have the flu? Or gas? Or a cold? Or the poops? Or—"

As Claudette's verbal diarrhea commenced, Penelope realized she couldn't sit there with this woman, this idiot who was sharing Derek's life—and maybe someday his bed. She couldn't. She'd vomit if she had to, and she didn't want to ruin the performance for the other patrons.

Interrupting the litany of illnesses, she said quickly, "I just don't feel well."

"I'm sorry about that," Claudette said. "Did you see Derek?"

"Briefly," she answered.

"You know, I thought he was chasing after you," Claudette added, her head turned to the side. "That doesn't surprise me, really. He's _always_ talking about you." For a second, Claudette looked at her in an appraising manner and then added, "I'm not sure why..."

At first, Claudette's expression was just plain Claudette-dim, but a moment later, a flash of pure cat rose in the woman's big, false-lashed eyes. Penelope almost groaned. Apparently, the bubble-head wasn't so innocent after all.._._

Still, Penelope didn't want to fight. She'd done enough of that tonight to last a lifetime. Besides, what was there to fight for? Even if this woman left, Derek wasn't truly available.

"Claudette?" she interrupted before the other woman could say another comment.

"Yes?"

"Will you please tell Aaron I'm waiting for him by the coat check?" she asked quickly.

"Oh, you're leaving?" the woman said, almost gleefully, but Penelope didn't respond. She needed to get out of there before the walls closed in on her.

She hurried toward the coat check, her eyes filling with tears as she thought about Derek. She was getting damned tired of crying over that man. He wasn't worth it...

That was a lie. He was worth every tear...and so much more. He was everything to her. She only wished that he wasn't. It was a futile wish... For nine years, he'd been the center of her universe. Nothing seemed to be able to change it—not other women, Kevin, fights. It should've been smooth sailing.

Sadly, the only thing that stood in their way now was Derek himself.

She stood in a line for ages, trying to both hide from Derek and be visible to Hotch. It wasn't an easy task, but at long last, she saw the tall, dashing figure of Hotch walking toward her.

She managed a faint smile. "You found me. Did Claudette tell you where I was?"

He smiled gently at her, a smile that she was beginning to treasure. "Yes, she did."

"Wow, she really does have a brain," Penelope grumbled in a rare show of sarcasm.

Hotch didn't hold it against her. Instead, he grinned at her, and looked like he was going to comment, too.

Her need to exit was greater than any commentary. " I'm really sorry, but can we go?" she pleaded. "I know we were here on a date, but I really don't feel well, and...um, Hotch?"

Something in his expression made her stop, something that said she should quit talking and start listening.

"Come with me," he said, placing a guiding hand on her back.

"Where are we going?"

"We need to have a conversation," he said softly as he led her to a bowed window-seat bench off the entryway, surrounded by fichus trees that afforded them some privacy.

As he helped her sit, he gave her his smile again. It was bittersweet to her. Over the past few weeks, he'd become such a good friend. They'd started off as just helping each other out, but her feelings for him had grown. She'd learned quickly he wasn't cold or unfeeling—in fact, he was quite the opposite. He was warm, kind, a gentle spirit. He was a good, gentle man with a big heart who cared about his friends.

The next woman would be very lucky to have him. He would have been easy to fall in love with...if someone else didn't already own her heart.

As he sat next to her, she smiled at him, grateful for his friendship. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I saw you and Morgan together earlier."

_Frack! _Only she would get caught by her _faux_ boyfriend fighting with her wannabe-but-neverbe boyfriend while out on a date! She knew her expression reeked of guilt. She never could play poker. "Oh?"

"Out on the balcony."

_Oh, shit._ "What did you hear?"

"Enough to know we really need to talk."

"About us?" she asked hopefully. She didn't mind talking about them. "Because I made you a promise, Boss Man, and I intend on keeping it."

"I know you would, and I am grateful," he replied. "But I think we need to talk about other, more pressing things."

She winced. She didn't want to talk about Derek. Hotch would be too reasonable, and she didn't want reasonable. Because although he was her friend, she also knew very well he was Derek's friend, too.

"Aaron," she hemmed. "I really don't want to do this right now."

He nodded. "Okay. However, from what I heard out there, we'll have to do this sometime."

She bit her bottom lip and looked at him with pleading eyes. "Do we have to?"

He reached for her cold, limp hand and held it tightly in his warm, dry one. "I'm afraid so."

She gave a blank snicker. "Can't hide, huh?"

Shaking his head slightly, he gave her a compassionate look.

She looked away from him. "Well, if you saw what happened out there, this conversation will be short. I'm done with him."

He chuckled, but softly. "No, Penelope. When it comes to Morgan, you are nowhere near done."

She gave him her haughtiest expression and raised her chin in frustration and defiance. "Yes, I am."

He simply arched a brow at her, showing her he knew that she was lying.

She huffed and then asked honestly and brokenly, "What if I want to be, Hotch? Because I want to be done! I...I...I really... do..."

The last miserable words trailed out in a near whisper, defying her even as she voiced them. Her heart gave a dull, painful thud in the hollow of her chest, telling her Hotch was right—it would never be over for her and Derek.

"Damn it," she muttered, closing her eyes to keep back tears.

Hotch squeezed her hand, showing his support. When she opened her eyes again, he asked, "Penelope, do you trust me?"

She nodded, squeezing his hand tighter. "Implicitly."

"Talk to him. Hear him out."

"I did," she argued, releasing his hand. "I didn't like what I heard."

"Truly listen. Hear what he's not saying, what he wants to say."

She frowned. "How?"

"Don't use your ears... Go with it. Use what you feel in your heart," he said softly.

Her heart sank in her chest, like it just dove off a high dive. "I can't."

"You can," he said with a certain nod, and then he chuckled softly. "I believe you taught me how to do that."

She shook her head and looked away. "I don't know if I can put my heart out there again."

"Yes, you can." He touched her cheek with his hand, cupped under her chin with a feather-light, reverent touch. "If anyone knows how open their heart, it's you."

The warmth in his eyes, the raw emotion flashing there caused her breath to catch in her throat. Looking at him, she could see the admiration and the love he had for her, and it was humbling.

And for the first time in her life, Penelope Garcia was speechless.

"Hotch," she whispered, not knowing what to say.

Lowering his hand, he smiled at her again. "Coming from someone who just remembered what it was like to feel and have a heart again, I know how important and how brave that is."

"Oh, Hotch," she said softly. "You really _mean_ that."

He chuckled, and his eyes were sparkling with humor and affection. "I do."

"Wow," she said, awestruck. "I mean...Oh, God. I didn't know...I mean, I didn't think...you and I...oh, man!"

"Penelope, it's okay."

She could feel her cheeks flushing as she continued stammering over her words, "But-but..but I didn't-"

"Garcia," he said, giving her a no-nonsense look that caused her to immediately halt. "Are you ready to listen?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

Once he was sure she meant it, he continued, "Before you start lambasting yourself, I want you to know: I knew what I was getting into when I started this. I didn't know and I didn't expect it, either."

"I know," she said, chewing nervously on her lip. "I just didn't think...and Derek...sheese. What a mess!"

He chuckled again. "Not really such a mess. And believe me; this relationship has been to my benefit, too."

Through tear-filled eyes, she asked, "It has?"

"Yes." He grinned at her, a warm, Aaron smile. "I've been frozen in place for nearly two years, and now...you've given me the courage to want to try again." He reached for her hand and kissed it. "I think I was waiting for a girl—the right kind of girl—to wake me up. I will forever be grateful to you for that."

She swallowed hard. It was so humbling, and she didn't know what to say. She stuck with the basics. "You're welcome."

"Now," he said with his genuine smile. "Are you going to prove me right, that my one—and only—time meddling with someone else's relationship wasn't in vain?"

"I...I don't know what to do," she whispered, her heart pounding nervously.

He gave her a half-smile, like he did often at work. "You will," he said, standing. "If I'm right, a certain other important man from our team is waiting to talk to you...and I don't mean Reid or Rossi."

She chuckled, smiling, and then wiped her eyes. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he said.

Penelope's heart was a dual mix of happy and heavy as she watched him walk out of the atrium.


	15. Chapter 15

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews! Real life got uber hectic, so I am waaaaay behind. Please forgive me! So...without further ado, here we go...One final chapter to go after this!

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**Chapter 15**

After she got over the shock of everything Hotch had told her, Penelope waited anxiously, her heart pounding, for Derek. She groaned, knowing she didn't look her best. Every time she bawled, her nose turned red and it became runny, like her mascara. Speaking of her eyes, they were most likely reddened and swollen squinty shut. _Frack!_ She didn't want him to see that she had been crying over him; he didn't need to know he affected her so much.

She didn't believe she mattered anywhere near as much to him.

Her gaze shot to the red, lighted emergency exit sign on the doorway about eighty feet away. Did wanting to run away from one's best friend count as an emergency? Dread and anticipation were warring with each other inside her stomach. She wished she didn't have to see him, yet waiting for whatever was coming was killing her, too.

Penelope's heart leaped into her heart when she heard the fichus trees rattle, and then a moment later, she saw a dark, long-fingered hand part the faux foliage.

"Penelope?"

For a second, she thought of not answering him. Still, that wouldn't buy too much extra time. Might as well woman up and not be childish.

"I'm—" she ground out hoarsely, sounding a bit like Stevie Nicks. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I'm here."

When his handsome face appeared past the fichus plants, she knew she was wrong in what she'd thought earlier. There was hesitancy, nerves she could recognize, along with a healthy dose of hurt clearly etched in his expression. However, when he looked at her, his eyes sold it for her. She'd never seen those chocolate brown eyes look so sad before.

He did care, and very deeply.

When he was in the hidden cove, he gave her a slight smile. "Hey, baby."

That wasn't going to do. He couldn't walk in, smile, and act like nothing had changed. She was so angry at him—and wounded herself; she couldn't help but be defensive. Hotch said she knew how to open her heart, but with this man, she needed to guard it...at least for a while.

Her voice was cool as she asked, "What do you want, Derek?"

Derek looked cautious, but he continued on. "Honey, we need to talk."

As he took the seat next to her, brushing against her to fit on the miniscule bench, she couldn't help but notice the differences she felt in comparison to when Hotch sat there only moments before. Her body felt warm, her heart beat was racing, and she found it hard to think.

Her love for him was a disease, an illness she needed to conquer. This wasn't a positive thing, to be so affected by one man.

"About what?" she asked defensively.

He smiled at her. "About everything, angel."

"I don't know if we have anything to say," she said, looking away from him. _Nothing you will allow yourself to say to me that matters, anyway..._

He chuckled. "Baby Girl, we have—"

"Don't cajole me with nicknames, Derek, and expect things to be like they always were," she snapped, glaring at him. "I'm not in the mood."

"Swee—Penelope," he said, and then he shook his head. "Just let me talk."

"You had an opportunity to talk on the balcony and you didn't," she snipped, putting her chin up.

_Listen to him. Really listen..._

Hotch's words rang out in her mind, but her hurt and anger kept resurfacing. She was so upset, it was hard to think clearly. She wanted to throttle him, pummel his chest with her fists for being such an idiot...and then hug him and cry until she couldn't cry anymore.

Until they were best friends again.

"Garcia, please," he said, his deep voice hoarse with emotion. "Come on, girl. I've begged for you once this evening, but I'll gladly do it again."

"Good!" She tried to huff that word venomously, but she couldn't. She didn't want him to beg; she just wanted him to talk to her. Really talk. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest, it ached, and tears prickled her eyes.

Damn it! She wasn't going to cry over him anymore! Steeling herself, she looked at him and said, "You have five minutes."

"Penelope, I...I'm..." He swallowed hard and then gave a nervous chuckle. "Damn. I don't know where to start."

She met his gaze squarely. "Four minutes, thirty seconds."

He stared at her, and at that moment, she could see it...his heart clearly in his eyes, all the love he felt for her written on his face. He looked more than upset—he looked anxious, nervous, like this was the most important thing he'd ever had to say and he was scared to death he was going to screw it up.

"Fuck," he swore, a look of self-disgust on his countenance, and then he ran his hand over his face. "I wanted it to be perfect, to say things the way I wanted you to hear them, but I'm out of cool, Penelope. I don't have that. I'm spread wide open when it comes to you.

"I'm so sorry," he told her.

There was no doubting the words he said, given the raw emotion she could feel pouring from him.

"I should've said to you months ago—_years_ ago—that I love you."

"You have," she said, her heart aching for him.

"That's a damned lie, Penelope, and you know it," he said. He sounded frustrated, upset—not at her, at himself. His voice was hoarse when he continued, "Not the way I meant it. Not the way I _should've_ said it."

Her breath held in her throat as she waited for him to answer her unasked question, knowing he needed to say the words as badly as she needed to hear them.

"I should've said the truth," he said softly. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then said, "You're my life."

She looked at him, shaking her head. "I don't understand..."

"I need you so badly, Penelope," he said fiercely. "You're everything to me. My life is dark without you. You...You make me smile, even when I think I can't."

"You make me smile, too," she whispered, reaching over to hold his hand.

"You're my angel, my sweetness, my precious Baby Girl." He held her hand tightly, a sense of urgency in his manner. "I know you think that's just nicknames, but they're not. Goddess, princess, sexy, and brilliant—you're all the words I say to you and more."

She swallowed and wiped away tears. "Oh, Derek. You mean the world to me, too. I love you, too."

He put his arm around her, held her close as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Sweetheart, you know whatever you wanted, I'd try to give you...no matter the cost?"

For a moment, the way his voice trailed, she had a feeling he meant a personal cost to himself. She looked up at him, confused. "Cost to you? What cost? I don't need money, D."

He shook his head. "I know that, sweet. Bear with me for a second. I'm still explaining."

"Okay..." she said, trying to be patient.

"Penelope..." he began again. "When you do this job, see the things I've seen...it changes you. I've been fighting some demons for a long time. Things that make me feel crazy."

She squeezed his hand, showing her support.

"I wanted to be able to handle it, to be able to put things behind me and move on, but I couldn't," he told her. "I thought I was moving on, and then I had to face my biggest demon again."

"Buford," she said.

He nodded. "Yes. It's been...hard. But it's my own personal hell, one that I had to deal with."

"You could've told me," she said softly, "instead of pushing me away."

He shook his head. "I didn't want to drag you down into this muck. I needed to fix this—fix me—and then...then maybe I'd be ready...I'd be a better man."

"You're already a wonderful man!" she cried. "The best!"

"No, I'm not," he said flatly. "Baby, a man who wakes up at night in cold sweats, panicking over a dead man...no. Anyone—even Lynch—was better than me with my head all screwed up. I have a lot of work to do, a lot of counseling to go to." He gave her a fierce, nearly haunted look. "Hell...I still do think you deserve better me. I'm just too selfish to do the right thing and walk away this time."

"Derek, I don't want a better man," she said honestly, holding his hand tightly. "I want you."

His lips twitched with a laugh that he suppressed. "That, non-compliment that it was, was the nicest thing I've heard all night."

Penelope's heart expanded in her chest. He was doing what he'd always done—protecting her, even from himself. She could deal with that; Derek needed to learn she was a big girl. But what was most important was that he wanted her. He loved her. He needed her.

And she needed him, too.

"D...you know, maybe I do deserve better," she began, and at his slight wince, she smiled warmly and drew him to his feet. She turned, placing her hands on his cheeks. "But it's not what I need. What I need is you, every part of you. Human, haunted, loving, strong, kind...all of you."

"Penelope."

"See...without you, I'm kinda miserable...kinda blue...and kinda lost. Because I may be your everything, but Derek...you're my everything, too."

He smiled, and his eyes shone bright with love and emotion.

"And _because _I love you, we can get through this together. I'm a big girl, Derek Morgan," she said. "An independent, strong woman. Do you agree?" She gave him a glare, daring him to argue.

"Yes, ma'am."

"So I can help you, like you would help me," she said with a nod.

He nodded, too.

Since she was on a roll, she continued, "And we can be teammates, friends, partners, boyfriend and girlfriend—"

"Lovers?" he asked with a hopeful eyebrow lift.

She blushed. "That, too."

Derek laughed, and then he took her into his arms and hugged her close in a tight embrace. "Penelope, I was a fool, and I am so damned sorry."

"I forgive you," she said, hugging him back, and then added, "but I do think you may have to make up for it a little."

He arched a brow and looked down at her. "How so?"

She sighed. "I may need you to sing to me again...my song."

Without pausing, he began, "_It feels so right, so warm and true. I need to know if you feel it, too_..."

Penelope gasped and then chuckled. "Wow. I'm starting to think you like that song after all."

"I can't stand it," he said honestly, his eyes twinkling, "but I memorized that...and 'Open Arms' by Journey."

Her heart melted. "Another eighth grade romance song!"

"Mmm hmm," he murmured, leaning down to kiss the tip of her nose. "Just in case Foreigner didn't work."

She chuckled again, loving that it was easy to tease with him again. "Silly boy..."

It was the most natural thing when he captured her lips with his. He cradled her head in his hands, and her eyes closed, her lashes resting heavily on her cheeks. A swirl of tingling warmth and passion swept over her as he brushed his mouth over hers with hot, yet tender urgency. When his lips parted from hers, there was no doubt that they were nowhere near done for the evening, the day, the week, the month...forever.

"Come on, baby," he murmured with a soft smile. "Let's go home."

"Sounds wonderful," she replied, leaning into his side.

They walked to the coat check to retrieve their coats, still wrapped around each other. She didn't want to be apart from him, and apparently, he didn't want to be apart from her, either.

"Oh, Mr. Morgan?" the coat check clerk asked. At Derek's nod, the man said, "There is a message for you."

Derek read the note and his lips twitched.

Curious, she asked, "What is it?"

He handed her the note...

_I am taking Claudette home after the concert finishes. Come Monday, you might have mandatory overtime. AH_

Penelope chuckled, and then she sighed. Hotch was a very good friend.

As they walked out the door, she said, "I think I owe you a song. One I have to memorize for you."

He stroked his chin thoughtfully with the hand that wasn't cradled to her side. "I'll come up with a doozy. Maybe one with a yodel."

She laughed while they walked away together...toward happily ever after.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16—The epilogue chapter**

During one of the many round table meetings at the BAU, Aaron Hotchner sat across from his technical analyst and his obsessional crimes expert. He was observing them, like he did all the members of his team. Last time he'd been in this situation, no one else had noticed the nuances in behavior between the pair.

This time, everyone noticed.

Morgan and Garcia beamed with happiness. It was a truly good match; the two cared deeply for one another, and it showed in the everyday things they did. It made him happy—he'd helped make that happen.

He couldn't hold back a smirk as he looked at his tablet, peering over the case facts from the police department in Salt Lake City. Not that he'd ever meddle again...

"So...it seems like something has you pretty happy," Rossi commented, leaning closer so just Hotch would hear. Then, with typical Dave snark, he added, "Unless an arson spree in Utah is somehow humorous."

He simply lifted a brow, barely looking up from his tablet to address his friend. They'd known each other so long, they didn't need to speak to communicate.

Dave chuckled lightly. "I didn't think so."

During the meeting, both senior agents looked over at Morgan and Garcia, noticed their close proximity, the way their legs touched, the way her hand rested on his thigh and his arm was around her just a touch closer than he used to hold her. They hadn't announced anything to the team, but it was obvious—they were very serious about one another.

After Hotch declared wheels up, the only two remaining in the room were himself and Rossi.

"I shouldn't say this," Dave said, sitting back in his chair, "but good job."

"Thank you."

He didn't say it had been the hardest job of his life, but with Dave, he really didn't have to.

He grinned. "Think you want to be matchmaker—?"

"No."

"Come on, Aaron." Rossi's smile turned positively devilish. "You have a knack for this. Look how well those two turned out."

He glared at Rossi.

Dave gave his best soulful look...that he could give while rubbing salt in a wound. "You still have several lonely, unmarried team members who could use a hand..."

Aaron's brow lifted again. "Yourself included?"

"Of course," he said emphatically.

"Definitely no."

Dave's laughter rang out in the room, echoing off the ceiling. He clasped Aaron's shoulder. "I completely understand!"

Hotch chuckled, too. "I don't know how you do it."

Rossi shrugged. "I'm a sucker for love."

Aaron found himself smirking again. After three wives, that seemed rather obvious!

Both men exited the room, heading down the hallway toward their respective offices. Hotch knew very well Dave wasn't done talking, but he was okay with that. He needed to talk, and there wasn't a better friend than David Rossi.

"Hey," Dave said in a querying tone. "After all that helping, what about yourself? Ready to climb back in the ring? Time is of the essence, Aaron. Ding, ding."

Aaron shook his head. "Only you would compare a relationship to a boxing match."

At that moment, Aaron heard a louder conversation, one that sounded heated. Further examination saw JJ in her old office, holding her cell phone. He had a bad feeling about this—things were not going well between the still-newly married couple.

"I can't help it that we got called on a—" JJ was forced to pause. Her shoulders were tense, bunched up by her neck, which showed her ire. "No, it doesn't happen every week. There are schedules, and—" Again, JJ needed to pause. Apparently, whomever she was talking to didn't want to listen to what she had to say. Finally, she said, "Will. We will talk about this when I get home."

Dave looked over at Aaron. "A boxing match...isn't it?"

Just then, JJ turned, her expression filled with hurt and anger as she jammed her phone in her pocket.

And at that moment, Aaron knew he wasn't done meddling. Not quite yet.

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AN: So!...Do you wonder what happens with Aaron? Will he get a girl of his own? Will his meddling work for JJ and Will, or will something else happen? Stay tuned for the sequel to this story, "I Want to Know What Love Is"


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